He 

Golfic 


Other  Tales 

o£    tKe 

Fair  Green 


WG.VanT. 
Sutphen 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

PROFESSOR 
LEON  J.  RICHARDSON 


The  Golficide 

and  Other  Tales  of 
the  Fair  Green.  By 
W.  G.  VAN  T.  SUTPHEN 

WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW     YORK     AND     LONDON 

HARPER     &      BROTHERS 

1898 


GIFT 


Copyright,  1898,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 
All  rights  reserved. 


9G 


TO 

E.  B.  S. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  GOLFICIDE 3 

THE  HONG-KONG  MEDAL 55 

THE  OBSESSION  OF  ROBINSON  BROWN  ...     89 

THE  PERIPATETIC  HAZARD 129 

THE  LOST  BALI *55 

THE  PRIME  GREAT  SECRET 197 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"'THE  NAME  OF  THAT  BUNKER  IS 

GRIMSHAW'S  GRAVE  '  " Frontispiece 

"  '  POSSIBLY  A  COLPORTEUR/  THOUGHT 

HENRY  ALDERSON" Facing  p.  60 

"'IT  WAS  A  LONG,  LONG  TIME  AGO,' 

BEGAN  THE  ANCIENT"  ....  "  156 

"WE  ALL  DISTINCTLY  HEARD  THE 

FATAL  SPLASH" "  172 

"AND  THERE  STOOD  MRS.  EDNA 

SEVERN  CHASE" "  190 

"'THIS  IS  ALL  ON  ME'" "      IQ2 


THE    GOLF1C1DE 


THE   GOLFICIDE 


MORGAN  GORDON  handed  his  putter  to 
the  caddie  and  walked  slowly  over  to  the 
club-house.  This,  then,  was  the  ending 
of  his  golfing  life  ;  this  the  inglorious 
issue  of  the  hard-fought  conflict.  Yet, 
now  that  the  strain  was  over,  he  would 
not  have  had  it  otherwise.  The  struggle, 
thank  Heaven  !  was  at  an  end ;  the  fierce, 
fitful  fever  had  at  last  burned  itself  out ; 
to-night  he  would  sleep  well.  Quickly 
his  mind  ran  back  over  the  past  two 
years — from  the  first  topped  ball  down 
to  the  short  putt  that  he  had  only  just 
missed.  And  oh,  how  short  a  putt  it 
was  ! — a  shade  under  six  inches  ! — and 
that  fool,  Robinson  Brown,  had  made  a 
3 


THE   GOLFICIDE 

snap-shot  of  it,  confound  his  impudence  ! 
Well,  it  was  all  over  now,  and  he  drew  a 
long  breath  of  relief,  subtly  tempered 
by  the  impalpable  sadness  of  an  infi 
nite  regret.  Unconsciously,  and  in  all 
but  the  accomplished  fact,  Morgan  Gor 
don  was  already  the  golficide,  bunkered 
at  the  last  hole  and  by  his  own  hand. 

It  was  as  a  member  of  the  Marion 
County  Club  that  Morgan  Gordon  had 
begun  his  brief  career  of  misdirected 
golf.  And  yet  the  man  had  been  sincere 
in  his  humble  way.  He  had  not  made 
golf  a  stalking-horse  for  his  social  ambi 
tions,  nor  yet  a  clothes-horse  upon  which 
to  hang  red  coats  and  incongruous  tar 
tans.  Golf  had  really  been  to  him  an 
ideal,  pure,  fresh,  and  all-absorbing.  He 
had  embraced  it  with  ardor,  he  had  pur 
sued  it  with  unwearying  zeal,  and,  until 
this  fatal  day,  he  had  never  absolutely 
despaired  of  its  final  attainment.  But 
now — 

And  yet,  after  all,  his  story  was  but 
the  common  one — his  disappointments 
4 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

and  trials  had  differed  only  in  degree 
from  those  usually  attendant  upon  a 
golfer's  education.  He  had  lost  balls 
and  broken  clubs  and  fallen  among 
bunkers  just  as  everybody  else  did  ;  but 
then,  in  the  beginning,  we  were  all  duf 
fers  together,  and  reflection  upon  that 
undeniable  fact  was  calculated  to  take 
the  sting  out  of  much  foozling. 

But  as  time  went  on  a  certain  process 
of  differentiation  worked  out  its  inevi 
table  results.  Certain  players  began  to 
hit  the  ball  clean  and  to  make  the  round 
in  double  figures,  and  presently  one  of 
them  became  the  acknowledged  cham 
pion  of  the  club.  Morgan  Gordon  only 
smiled  at  this  ;  he  felt  that  he  was  per 
fecting  his  style  and  could  afford  to 
wait. 

The  weeks  slipped  away,  the  gap  con 
tinued  to  grow  wider  and  wider,  and  one 
day  the  Green  Committee  announced 
that  henceforth  the  playing  members 
would  be  divided  into  classes  A,  B,  and 
C.  At  the  foot  of  class  C  stood  the 

5 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

name  of  Morgan  Gordon,  and,  beholding 
it,  he  smiled  no  longer.  It  was  time  to 
buckle  down  to  real  work. 

Now,  it  is  a  pretty  firmly  established 
fact  that  to  succeed  at  golf  one  must 
give  his  undivided  attention  to  the  task. 
There  can  be  no  half-hearted  allegiance 
to  "  Our  Lady  of  the  Links."  The  god 
dess  of  golf  is  a  terribly  exacting  mis 
tress,  and  she  accepts  no  devotion  un 
less  it  be  absolute  and  unqualified.  Least 
of  all  can  she  brook  the  presence  of  a 
rival.  It  was  none  of  Morgan  Gordon's 
business  that  Alice  Townley  took  no 
interest  in  golf.  Of  course  she  was  a 
member  of  the  club,  and  occasionally 
she  condescended  to  a  mixed  foursome, 
but  she  did  not  really  enjoy  or  play  the 
game.  To  her  peculiarly  constituted 
nature  golf  did  not  appeal — a  sorrowful 
fact,  and  yet,  withal,  an  incontrovertible 
one.  De  golfibus  non  cst  disputanduin. 

Now,  I  repeat  that  all  this  was  none 
of  Morgan  Gordon's  business,  and  it 
would  have  been  the  better  for  his  iron 
6 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

play  if  he  had  not  attempted  to  meddle 
with  it.  But  we  all  make  mistakes,  and 
out  of  purest  loyalty  to  the  cause  Mor 
gan  Gordon  set  himself  to  convert  the 
obstinate  Miss  Townley.  Her  attitude 
towards  the  game  was  inexplicable.  He 
resented  it ;  he  told  himself  that  he  did 
not  believe  in  it,  even  as  a  casual  varia 
tion  upon  the  eternal  feminine.  The 
rebel  must  be  brought  to  submission. 

He  tried  friendly  argument  (still  out 
of  pure  zeal,  mind  you),  and  he  failed. 
He  engaged  two  professionals  to  play  a 
purely  spectacular  match  for  her  es 
pecial  edification,  and  she  did  not  even 
come  to  see  it.  He  offered  to  teach  her 
his  own  swing,  and  she  only  smiled.  It 
was  too  bad,  but  he  could  not  deceive 
himself.  His  unwearying  patience,  his 
unwavering  enthusiasm  had  accom 
plished  absolutely  nothing.  Between 
him  and  Alice  Townley  there  was  a 
great  golf  fixed. 

Strange,  is  it  not,  that  this  untoward 
circumstance  should  have  touched  Mor- 
7 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

gan  Gordon  so  nearly  ?  And,  stranger 
yet,  he  had  received  no  assistance  what 
ever  in  his  missionary  work  from  the 
one  whose  interests  he  was  so  loyally 
striving  to  further.  Alas,  poor  fellow  ! 
he  had  overlooked  the  fact  that  the  god 
dess  of  golf  and  the  immovable  Miss 
Townley  were  both  of  the  inscrutable 
feminine  persuasion,  and  that  he  was 
really  the  last  person  in  the  world  who 
could  hope  to  mediate  between  them. 
It  was  stupid,  too,  of  the  goddess ;  she 
should  never  have  allowed  him  to  make 
the  attempt.  Still,  in  that  case  there 
would  have  been  no  story  to  tell. 

Mr.  Morgan  Gordon  was  a  person  of 
some  decision  of  character,  and  he  was 
not  yet  ready  to  give  up  the  fight.  The 
autumn  handicap  was  about  six  weeks 
off,  and  the  prize  was  an  exceedingly 
handsome  piece  of  plate.  If  he  could 
go  to  Alice  Townley  with  that  cup  in 
his  hand,  there  is  no  telling  what  sur 
prising  results  might  be  effected.  No 
woman  in  her  senses  could  fail  to  see 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

its  possibilities  as  a  claret-jug  in  a  lim 
ited  menage,  and  its  lustrous  magnifi 
cence  would  unquestionably  adorn  even 
the  humblest  of  cottage  side-boards. 

In  the  pursuance  of  this  ingenious 
policy,  Morgan  Gordon  immediately 
gave  up  the  lease  of  his  office  in  the 
city,  made  arrangements  to  take  all  his 
meals  at  the  club-house,  and  placed  him 
self  under  the  care  of  the  resident  pro 
fessionals.  All  for  golf,  you  will  please 
remember.  My  hero's  sincerity  of  pur 
pose  must  not  be  questioned  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  it  was  certainly  never  doubted 
by  himself. 

Six  weeks  of  unremitting  toil  with 
brassey  and  niblick,  and  the  handicap 
was  on.  There  was  only  one  thing  that 
could  possibly  prevent  Morgan  Gordon's 
triumph,  and  of  course  that  one  thing 
happened.  "Our  Lady  of  the  Links" 
had  a  fit  of  the  sulks,  and  Morgan  Gor 
don  couldn't  hit  a  ball.  There  had  been 
twenty-six  entries  (six  of  them  from  the 
gentler  sex),  and,  lo  !  Morgan  Gordon's 
9 


THE    GOLFIC1DE 

score  led  all  the  rest.  Disgraceful  !  and 
how  Alice  Townley's  eyes  had  flashed 
scornful  fire  as  the  totals  went  up, 
chalked  with  uncompromising  plainness 
upon  the  big  club  blackboard  !  No  won 
der  that  Morgan  Gordon's  heart  was  very 
bitter  as  he  made  that  short  journey 
over  to  the  club-house. 

He  picked  out  a  seat  in  the  darkest 
corner  of  the  smoking-room  and  puffed 
savagely  at  a  big  black  cigar,  while  he 
reflected  upon  his  late  discomfiture. 
Certainly  "Our  Lady  of  the  Links" 
had  not  been  kind  ;  she  must  have 
taken  his  well  -  intentioned  efforts  to 
convert  Miss  Townley  as  a  deliberate 
slight  to  her  own  charms,  and,  woman 
like,  had  sought  to  punish  him.  But 
this  time  the  goddess  had  gone  a  trifle 
too  far,  by  S.  Andrews  !  She  had,  in 
deed,  and  he  would  not  stand  it !  Too 
long  already  had  he  suffered  from  the 
unreasonable  caprices  of  this  belle  dame 
sans  mcrci,  who  held  out  glittering  al 
lurements  in  the  guise  of  triple-plated 

10 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

electro,  and  then  delivered  up  her  cred 
ulous  worshippers  to  the  torments  of  un 
frequented  side-hazards  and  unfathom 
able  bunkers.  Morgan  Gordon's  heart 
was  very  sore  as  he  thought  of  these 
things,  and  he  began  to  wonder  if,  after 
all,  the  game  had  been  worth  the  candle 
(with  which  he  had  been  wont  to  prac 
tise  putting  after  dark).  Might  there 
not  be  better  things  in  life  than  a  two- 
hundred-yard  drive?  nobler  ambitions 
than  holing  in  three  off  the  iron  ? 

He  rose  and  walked  to  the  window. 
Alice  Townley  was  sitting  in  a  secluded 
corner  of  the  piazza,  and  half  uncon 
sciously  Gordon  found  himself  staring 
hard  at  the  gracious  picture  that  she 
made  against  the  green-and-scarlet  back 
ground  of  the  trumpet-vines.  What  a 
pretty  girl  she  was,  to  be  sure  !  What 
on  earth  had  he  been  looking  at  all 
these  months  ?  What,  indeed,  but  a 
filthy  piece  of  battered  gutta-percha, 
which,  after  all,  he  very  seldom  hit. 
Gracious  heavens  !  Why  should  he  have 
ii 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

been  wasting  his  time  "  addressing " 
a  miserable  ball  when  he  might  have 
been  talking  to  a  woman  like  Alice 
Townley  ?  Why  should  his  left  foot 
know  or  care  what  his  right  foot  was 
doing,  so  long  as  his  "  stance  "  was  at 
her  side?  By  Jove  !  and  there  was  that 
idiot  Robinson  Brown  making  up  to 
her  now. 

He  hardly  knew  how  it  had  all  come 
about  so  quickly,  but  there  he  was  in 
that  secluded  corner,  and  he  had  just 
finished  asking  Alice  Townley  to  be  his 
wife.  She  was  speaking  slowly  and  dis 
tinctly,  but  for  the  moment  the  words 
sounded  unintelligibly  in  his  ears.  What 
was  she  saying  ?  In  those  calmly  modu 
lated  sentences  there  was  not  a  trace  of 
the  conventional  surprise,  of  the  maiden 
ly  confusion  which  might  very  properly 
have  been  expected  under  the  circum 
stances.  No  one  knew  better  than  Mor 
gan  Gordon  himself  that  he  was  by  long 
odds  the  most  eligible  bachelor  in  all 
Lauriston,  and  his  declaration  had  cer- 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

tainly  been  precipitate  and  calculated  to 
confuse  even  so  well-balanced  a  young 
woman  as  Alice  Townley.  But  she  was 
speaking,  and  he  must  force  himself  to 
listen. 

"You  cannot  deny  that  you  are  still 
a  golfer,"  repeated  this  extraordinary 
young  person.  "  Influenced  by  a  mo 
mentary  irritation,  you  have  persuaded 
yourself  into  thinking  that  I  am  of  more 
importance  to  your  future  happiness 
than  even  the  perfecting  of  your  iron 
play.  I  give  you  all  credit  for  honesty  ; 
you  think  that  you  are  sincere  in  what 
you  say,  and  yet  I  cannot,  dare  not  trust 
you.  Go  back  to  your  golf  and  forget 
me  ;  believe  me,  it  will  be  better  thus 
for  us  both." 

Morgan  Gordon  looked  at  her  in 
amazement.  "  I  had  about  decided  to 
give  up  golf  for  good,"  he  said,  quickly. 

"  Give  it  up  !  You  resigned  twice 
from  the  club  last  year,  did  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Three  times,  to  my  personal  knowl- 
13 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

edge,  you  sacrificed  your  entire  collec 
tion  of  clubs  to  the  fury  of  the  moment, 
and  once  you  went  so  far  as  to  give  me 
your  red  coat  to  be  made  up  into  pin 
cushions  for  a  charity  bazar.  And  yet 
you  are  still  playing." 

Morgan  Gordon  looked  very  sober. 
"Well,  and  what  of  that  ?" 

"  Can  you  ask  me  such  a  question, 
Morgan  Gordon  ?  Do  you  not  realize 
that  you  are  a  slave,  bound  hand  and 
foot  in  the  most  hopeless  of  thraldoms  ? 
And  yet  you  ask  me  to  be  your  wife,  you 
who  have  foozled  away  the  best  years 
of  your  life,  entangled  in  long  grass, 
buried  in  cuppy  lies,  bunkered  for  days 
together  in  the  unspeakable  depths  of 
the  Pons  Asinorum.  Never !  Morgan 
Gordon.  I  may  live  and  die  Alice 
Townley,  but  never,  never  will  I  be  any 
man's  golf  widow  !" 

Morgan  Gordon  was  silent.  He  could 
not  but  recognize  the  truth  in  those 
stinging  words.  She  was  right,  a  thou 
sand  times  right.  In  the  vivid  lightning 
14 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

that  flashed  from  her  stormy  eyes  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  himself  and  of  his 
real  position.  He  was,  indeed,  a  golfiac 
and  the  slave  of  his  own  niblick.  He 
bowed  his  head  in  speechless  bitterness. 

"Perhaps  you  might  join  a  tennis 
club;  it  is  just  a  chance,  but  it  might 
be  worth  while.  It  cured  Jim  Ryder." 

"  I  did  try  it  for  a  month,"  said  Gor 
don,  timidly.  "  You  remember  that  I 
was  expelled  because  I  appeared  at  the 
courts,  on  three  successive  days,  dis 
guised  in  knickerbockers." 

"I  remember,"  said  Miss  Townley, 
softly. 

The  sudden  tenderness  in  her  voice 
emboldened  him.  "  Don't  you  think 
that  if  you  should  take  me  in  hand —  " 
he  stopped  abruptly,  for  her  face  had 
grown  hard  again. 

"And  commit  the  most  supreme  act  of 
folly  of  which  even  a  woman  is  capable  !" 
She  laughed  scornfully,  and  Gordon 
looked  abashed.  She  went  on  quickly  : 
"  There !  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  you ; 
15 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

but,  believe  me,  the  thing  is  impossible. 
Heavens  !  have  I  not  seen  it  all  a  thou 
sand  times  before  ?  There  are  the  Rob 
inson  Browns.  Could  any  woman  have 
done  more  for  the  man  she  loved?  I 
called  at  the  house  yesterday  and  was 
received  in  the  butler's  pantry,  because, 
forsooth,  the  drawing-room  had  been 
turned  into  a  putting-green  for  rainy- 
day  practice.  Alderson !  When  Kitty 
Crake  married  him,  did  she  ever  suspect 
that  the  day  would  come  when  there 
would  be  a  cleek  in  every  room  and  a 
captive  ball  in  the  art  -  gallery  ?  You 
depend  upon  my  love  and  prayers  to 
deliver  you  when  there  is  not  a  patent 
iron  ever  forged  which  could  put  you 
on  the  *  Island '  green  under  double  fig 
ures  ?  No,  Morgan,  it  cannot  be.  I  do 
not  deny  that  I  might  have  cared  for 
you — that  I  do  care  for  you  now,  if  you 
will  have  it  so — but  I.  say  again  that  I 
dare  not  trust  you..  Pledges  !  Oaths  ! 
What  are  mere  words  upon  which  to 
build  our  hopes  for  future  happiness? 
16 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

A  trial-drive  here,  a  practice-putt  there, 
and  the  next  handicap  would  see  you 
again  at  the  bottom  of  the  list.  No  ; 
it  cannot,  cannot  be  !" 

"  Then  there  is  no  hope  for  me  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  men  talk  of  golficide," 
returned  Miss  Townley.  "  It  sounds  as 
though  there  might  be  something  in  it." 

"  Something  not  very  nice,"  said  Gor 
don,  paling  slightly.  "  It  makes  me  feel 
a  bit  queer  even  to  think  of  it." 

Miss  Townley  looked  at  him  steadily. 
"  I  thought  as  much,"  she  said,  icily. 

Gordon  flushed  up  at  that.  "You 
think  that  I  don't  really  want  to  be 
cured,  but  you  are  mistaken.  I  was 
only  wondering  if  the  agonies  of  a  golf 
er's  dissolution  were  in  any  degree  com 
mensurate  with  the  torments  of  his  birth 
and  early  years.  As  a  golficide  I  might 
be  worse  off  than  I  am  now." 

Miss  Townley  looked  annoyed.  "  Very 
possibly,"  she  said,  briefly. 

"It's  a  big  risk." 

"A  tremendous  one,  no  doubt.  I 
B  .  17 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

shouldn't  dream  of  asking  you  to  take 
it." 

"But  I  have  already  done  so,"  an 
swered  Morgan  Gordon,  his  face  aglow 
with  a  new  and  high  resolve.  "  Be  the 
issue  what  it  may,  I  commit  golficide 
this  very  night,  and  remember  that  I 
shall  look  to  you  for  my  reward,"  he 
added,  meaningly. 

Miss  Townley  blushed,  but  she  met 
his  steadfast  gaze  frankly.  "  I  shall  be 
at  home  any  time  after  ten  to-morrow," 
she  said,  in  a  half  whisper,  for  the  piazza. 
was  now  filling  up  rapidly  and  the  tea- 
trays  were  appearing  on  every  side. 

Morgan  Gordon  withdrew  into  the 
background,  his  breast  dilating  with 
strange  emotions.  He  had  actually 
asked  a  girl  to  be  his  wife,  and  he  had 
definitely  determined  upon  golficide. 
Curiously  enough,  it  was  the  taking  of 
this  second  step  that  moved  him  the 
more  deeply.  To  play  golf  no  more  ! 
Why,  it  was  like  the  beginning  of  a  new 
life.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  he  no 
18 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

longer  felt  any  desire  to  play  ;  no,  not 
even  if  he  could  be  a  medal  man  and  go 
around  in  78  or  under.  Morgan  Gordon 
gasped  ;  he  realized  that  he  was  a  free 
man  again,  and  he  could  have  shouted 
aloud  in  the  pure  ecstasy  born  of  a  great 
deliverance.  He  reflected,  however,  that 
there  were  a  good  many  people  in  smart 
clothes  standing  about,  and  they  would 
not  understand  ;  they  might  even  look 
surprised.  So  he  contented  himself  with 
ordering  up  his  T-cart  and  throwing  an 
unutterable  look  in  Miss  Townley's  di 
rection  as  he  drove  off  ;  also,  a  five-dollar 
bill  to  the  groom,  which  was  not  too 
much,  considering  that  the  man  had  a 
large  family. 

After  dinner  Morgan  Gordon  went  up 
to  his  room,  leaving  instructions  that  he 
was  not  to  be  disturbed.  He  pulled  a 
chair  in  front  of  the  fire  and  set  himself 
to  consider  the  situation.  Somehow  he 
felt  a  vague  disquietude  in  his  newly 
taken  position,  and  the  first  fervor  of 
enthusiasm  had  sensibly  cooled.  It  was 
19 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

all  very  well  for  Alice  Townley  to  talk 
golficide,  but  it  was  a  pity  that  she  could 
not  see  that  the  game  had  its  good 
points.  She  was  asking  a  tremendous 
lot  of  him  ;  and  just  then  a  demon  came 
and  whispered  softly  in  his  ear  that  a 
loose  grip  with  the  right  hand  was  a  cer 
tain  panacea  for  all  sorts  of  bad  driving. 
It  was  a  tempting,  a  plausible  sugges 
tion,  and  Morgan  Gordon  wondered  that 
he  had  not  thought  of  that  before.  And 
it  was  so  simple,  such  an  easy  thing  to 
try. 

With  a  great  effort  of  will  he  put  the 
temptation  behind  him.  He  had  passed 
his  word  and  the  thing  must  be  done. 
Must  be  done  !  And  how  on  earth  was 
he  to  do  it  ?  He  suddenly  realized  that 
he  had  not  the  remotest  conception 
of  what  golficide  really  was  ;  he  had 
pledged  himself  to  solve  a  problem 
whose  very  terms  were  unknown  to  him. 
Could  anything  be  more  ridiculous? 

For  a  long  time  Morgan  Gordon  sat 
and  pondered  upon  this  knotty  point. 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

What  was  this  golficide  to  which  he  had 
committed  himself  ?  Resigning  from 
the  club,  breaking  his  pet  driver,  giving 
away  his  stock  of  balls  ;  he  had  tried  all 
these  ordinary  methods,  as  Alice  Town- 
ley  had  but  just  now  reminded  him. 
Golficide  was  not  to  be  accomplished  by 
these  puerile  expedients ;  it  must  be 
something  far  more  radical  and  endur 
ing  in  its  results. 

He  might  resort  to  the  heroic  meas 
ure  of  amputating  a  limb,  but  he  re 
membered  having  heard  of  various  arnv 
less  and  legless  prodigies  in  the  world 
"of  golf  who  were  devoted  to  the  sport, 
and  who  managed  to  play  a  very  fair 
game  in  spite  of  their  anatomical  de 
ficiencies.  To  overgolf  himself,  was  a 
second  thought,  and  for  the  moment 
an  attractive  one.  But  such  a  remedy 
could  not  afford  immediate  relief,  and 
would  not  satisfy  the  exacting  Miss 
Townley.  Finally,  he  might  fall  upon 
the  point  of  his  niblick,  after  the  fash 
ion  of  King  Saul  at  Gilboa,  but  such  an 

21 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

act  involved  physical  self  -  destruction  ; 
and  he  remembered  with  a  little  thrill 
that  some  one  besides  himself  had  now 
an  interest  in  his  life.  It  was  all  a  mud 
dle,  and  the  more  he  smoked  and  pon 
dered,  the  more  of  a  muddle  it  became. 
And  so,  puzzled  and  dispirited,  Morgan 
Gordon  ordered  up  a  late  supper  of 
golden  buck  and  a  bottle  of  stout,  and 
having  disposed  of  these  simple  refresh 
ments,  he  decided  to  go  to  bed  and  trust 
to  chance  and  dreams  for  an  inspiration. 
It  was  a  strange  half -waking,  half- 
sleeping  state  into  which  Morgan  Gor 
don  presently  fell.  He  remained  con 
scious  of  his  own  personality  and  of  the 
familiar  surroundings  of  his  room,  and 
yet,  little  by  little,  some  kind  of  a  change 
was  certainly  taking  place.  At  first  he 
felt  only  a  vague  surprise  as  the  walls 
of  the  chamber  began  to  widen  and  to 
recede  into  the  night,  but  now  he  could 
plainly  see  the  stars  shining  above  his 
head,  and  his  comfortable  spring  mat 
tress  had  suddenly  developed  extraor- 

22 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

dinary  qualities  of  knobbincss  and  an 
gularity.  Absurd  !  but  that  really  felt 
like  a  stone  under  the  small  of  his  back, 
and  he  tried  to  turn  over.  Ugh  !  there 
was  a  lot  of  sand  up  his  sleeve,  and  a 
bunch  of  stinging  nettles  had  taken  the 
place  of  his  pillow.  With  an  exclama 
tion  of  impatience  Morgan  Gordon 
opened  his  eyes,  and  it  was  just  as  he 
had  expected ;  this  was  not  his  bed  at  all, 
but  that  unspeakable  and  loathly  sand- 
bunker  of  the  Marion  County  course, 
which  men  call  Pons  Asinorum.  Heav 
ens  !  he  should  know  it  well  enough  by 
this  time  ;  there  was  not  a  day  of  his 
golfing  life  that  he  had  not  visited  it 
at  least  once,  and  his  trusty  niblick 
was  well  acquainted  with  every  square 
inch  of  its  accursed  surface.  But  this 
was  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  he  had 
certainly  not  been  golfing.  What  did  it 
mean  ? 

With  increasing  impatience  he   tried 
to  rise,  and  then  perceived  that  he  was 
buried  up  to  his  waist  in  the  loose  sand. 
23 


THE    GOLFIC1DE 

More  than  that,  it  was  rapidly  drifting 
higher  and  higher,  and  threatening  to 
overwhelm  him  completely.  Horrors ! 
and  he  had  not  a  tool  or  a  digging  in 
strument  of  any  kind.  In  despair  he 
threw  out  his  arms  and  shouted  wildly 
for  assistance.  No  one  appeared  in  an 
swer  to  the  call,  but  his  hand  encoun 
tered  something  cold  and  hard.  He 
recognized  it  at  once  ;  it  was  his  own 
niblick.  Strange  !  but  never  mind,  he 
knew  how  to  use  that  particular  club, 
and  he  at  once  set  vigorously  at  work 
to  extricate  himself.  The  sand  flew  in 
showers.  There  !  he  could  move  his  right 
leg  a  little  ;  another  desperate  effort  and 
he  had  wriggled  it  free. 

Five  minutes  later  Morgan  Gordon 
crawled  painfully  out  of  the  Pans  Asiu- 
orum  bunker,  drew  a  long  breath  of  re 
lief,  and  gazed  eagerly  about  him.  It 
was  indeed  the  golf  course  of  the  Marion 
County  Club  ;  it  was  unquestionably  the 
middle  of  an  unusually  dark  night,  and 
yet  the  links  were  crowded  with  shad- 
24 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

owy,  moving  figures,  great  divots  of  turf 
hurtled  unceasingly  through  the  murky 
air,  and  the  crack  of  drivers  and  the 
ring  of  irons  resounded  from  every  side. 
Morgan  Gordon  glanced  over  at  the  first 
tee.  Surely  he  knew  the  player  who 
was  preparing  to  strike  off  ;  yes,  it  was 
certainly  Bingley,  an  ex-member  of  the 
club.  Gordon  walked  up  and  addressed 
him  by  name. 

"You  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bingley,  look 
ing  at  Gordon  with  a  surprise  certainly 
unaffected.  "  You  here  !" 

"  An  explanation  on  your  part  would 
be  more  in  order,"  retorted  Gordon. 
"  You're  not  a  member  of  the  club  and 
haven't  been  for  two  years." 

Mr.  Bingley  smiled  in  an  aggravating 
way.  "  Where  do  you  think  you  are  ?" 
he  demanded,  coolly. 

"Why,  at  the  Marion  County  Golf 
Club,"  began  Morgan  Gordon,  and  then 
stopped,  irresolute  and  puzzled.  It  was 
the  familiar  scene  of  the  County  Club 
grounds,  and  then  again  it  was  not. 
25 


THE    GOLF1CIDE 

Things  looked  distorted  in  the  dim 
light,  definite  landmarks  had  arbitra 
rily  resolved  themselves  into  unknown 
shapes,  hills  had  sunk  into  formless 
hollows,  and  valleys  had  been  exalted 
into  Alpine  heights.  "  But  it  is  the 
County  Club,"  repeated  Morgan  Gor 
don,  weakly.  He  felt  disquieted,  even 
afraid. 

"  Just  as  you  like,  but  at  this  particu 
lar  time  of  night  the  privileges  of  the 
course  belong  exclusively  to  the  Honor 
able  Company  of  Passed  and  Qualified 
Golficides.  You  ought  to  know  that 
well  enough." 

"  The  Honorable  Company  of  Passed 
and  Qualified  Golficides  !"  The  words 
fell  with  startling  significance  upon  Mor 
gan  Gordon's  ears.  With  what  strange 
company  had  he  now  foregathered? 
He  stared  hard  at  Bingley  and  then 
hastily  drew  back.  The  figures  painted 
upon  the  sand-box  could  be  plainly  read 
right  through  that  gentleman's  ample 
person. 

26 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

"  Then  there  is  such  a  thing  ?"  fal 
tered  Morgan  Gordon. 

"Such  a  what?" 

"Golficide."  This  last  in  an  awed 
whisper. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  returned  Bingley, 
complacently.  "  Every  mother's  son  of 
'em  there  is  a  golficide,  and  a  good  one, 
too."  He  indicated,  with  a  comprehen 
sive  wave  of  the  hand,  the  dim  figures 
that  moved  among  the  shadows.  "  I'm 
one  myself — qualified  last  August." 

"  But — but  aren't  they  playing — play 
ing  golf,  I  mean?" 

"That  depends  upon  what  you  call 
golf,  my  dear  fellow.  They  are  certainly 
playing  at  it,  and,  in  fact,  we  meet  here 
every  night  for  regular  practice,  with 
hours  from  midnight  to  cock-crow.  And 
Sunday  play,  too,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh. 
"  We  fought  and  protested  against  it  as 
long  as  we  could,  but  the  Colonel  in 
sisted." 

"The  Colonel ?" 

"Yes  ;  Bogey,  you  know,  and  a  regu- 
27 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

lar  slave-driver  he  is,  too.  How  I  hate 
the  smooth,  oily  devil,  with  his  eternal 
three  off  the  iron,  and  no  allowance  for 
a  bad  lie."  Mr.  Bingley  scowled  savage 
ly,  and  tried  to  kick  an  inoffensive  wa 
tering-pot  into  a  cocked  hat.  But  his 
shadowy  foot  passed  harmlessly  through 
the  material  tin  ;  there  was  not  even  a 
scratch  upon  its  painted  sides. 

"It's  a  little  different  from  what  I 
had  expected,"  said  Morgan  Gordon, 
hesitatingly.  "  I  had  always  supposed 
that  a  man  committing  golficide  had 
made  an  end  of  it — of  his  golf,  I  mean." 

"And  a  very  common  error  among 
you  materialists,"  retorted  Bingley.  "  It 
all  depends  upon  how  you  have  golfed, 
and  there  is  an  immortality  for  the 
medal  man  as  well  as  for  the  duffer. 
Col.  Bogey  himself  was  a  scratch  man 
at  St.  Andrews  for  years  and  years." 

"  St.  Andrews  ?  I  thought  that  was 
where  the  good  golfers  went  when  they 
died." 

"  So  they  do.  The  bad  ones,  and  we 
28 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

who  have  had  the  temerity  to  take 
matters  into  our  own  hands,  come 
here." 

"  Rather  a  reflection  upon  the  Marion 
County  course,"  said  Gordon,  indignant 
ly,  "and  I  don't  think  that  the  Green 
Committee  would  be  pleased  if  they 
knew  of  it." 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  selection  is  in 
the  nature  of  a  compliment,"  smiled 
Bingley.  "  This  is  only  the  intermedi 
ate  state,  don't  you  know,  and  we  must 
have  a  place  where  we  can  be  sure  of 
getting  our  afternoon  tea  regularly. 
The  actual  golfing  inferno,  the  final  des 
tination  of  the  incorrigible,  is  of  course 
the  club  at ,"  and  Bingley  whisper 
ed  into  Gordon's  shrinking  ear  a  name 
that  stands  high  upon  the  roster  of  the 
U.  S.  G.  A. 

Morgan  Gordon  trembled  like  a  leaf. 
"  I  have  played  that  course  myself,"  he 
said,  faintly. 

"We  all  have,"  said  Bingley,  with  a 
sardonic  smile,  "  and  yet  there  are  peo- 
29 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

pie  who  still  doubt  if  there  be  an  actual 
place  of  eternal  torment. 

An  electric  bell  tinkled  sharply,  and 
Bingley  started.  "  That's  for  me,"  he 
said,  nervously,  "  and  I  must  be  off  upon 
my  round.  Come  along,  if  you  like,  and 
you  can  examine  the  workings  of  our 
system." 

"  If  you  are  sure  that  I  sha'n't  get  in 
the  way,"  assented  Gordon,  shyly. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Bingley,  with  a 
grimace.  "  Getting  in  the  way  is  my 
particular  number  upon  the  general 
programme,  as  you'll  soon  see  for  your 
self.  Come  on." 

Mr.  Bingley  kicked  his  ball  off  the 
tee,  threw  his  clubs  at  a  caddie's  head, 
and,  accompanied  by  Morgan  Gordon, 
walked  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the 
first  putting-green.  The  night,  as  has 
been  said,  was  dark,  and  yet  the  course 
was  distinctly  visible,  bathed  as  it  was 
in  a  peculiar  saffron  -  colored  light. 
Strangely  enough,  this  unearthly  ra 
diance  seemed  to  hang  with  special  per- 
30 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

sistence  over  the  various  sand-bunkers 
and  the  other  hazards  of  the  fair  green, 
and  it  possessed  a  strong  and  unmistak 
able  odor.  Morgan  Gordon  recognized 
it  at  once  ;  yes,  it  was  undoubtedly  sul 
phurous  in  its  origin. 

"  We  have  to  depend  upon  the  lan 
guage  used  by  the  members  to  illumi 
nate  the  grounds,"  explained  Bingley. 
"  And  there  isn't  a  better  lighted  golf 
course  in  the  country,"  he  added,  with 
a  touch  of  pardonable  pride. 

"  Fore  !"  The  warning  rang  out  sharp 
ly  from  behind,  and  Morgan  Gordon  in 
voluntarily  ducked,  as  the  ball  whizzed 
close  past  his  head.  Bingley  fell  to  the 
ground,  with  a  yell  of  pain  ;  the  "  gutty  " 
had  struck  him  squarely  upon  the  calf 
of  the  leg. 

"  It's  outrageous  !"  exclaimed  Gordon, 
as  he  assisted  the  unfortunate  Bingley 
to  his  feet.  "  The  idea  of  driving  a  ball 
straight  at  a  man  !  It's  a  wonder  that 
it  didn't  hit  me." 

Bingley    looked    at    Gordon    with    a 


THE    GOLF1CIDE 

queer  expression  on  his  face.  "That's 
the  sort  of  thing  I  used  to  do  myself — I 
mean  during  my  golfing  life,"  he  said, 
quietly.  "  Now  everybody  on  the  links  is 
entitled  to  take  a  crack  at  me  whenever 
they  please.  I  don't  complain  ;  it's  only 
justice." 

Morgan  Gordon  began  to  understand. 
This  was  poetic  retribution,  indeed,  but, 
ah  !  how  strange  and  terrible.  Poor 
Bingley  ! 

They  had  walked  a  long  distance  by 
this  time,  but  the  first  green  still  lay 
far  beyond  them. 

"How  long  is  the  course?"  inquired 
Morgan  Gordon. 

"  It  extends  to  infinity." 

"  It  must  take  a  long  time  to  play 
around  ?" 

"An  eternity." 

"  I  should  think  that  a  man  would  be 
liable  to  overgolf  himself,"  ventured 
Gordon.  But  Bingley  did  not  answer. 
A  long  brassey  shot  had  just  knocked 
out  his  last  remaining  tooth,  and  he  was 
32 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

groaning  piteously  into  his  pocket-hand 
kerchief. 

A  man  passed  them,  running  with  in 
credible  swiftness  through  the  sulphur 
ous  gloom.  Morgan  Gordon  gasped  with 
horror  as  he  saw  that  the  poor  wretch 
was  wearing  a  pair  of  iron  shoes  that 
glowed  a  dull  cherry  red.  The  miserable 
creature  came  up  with  his  ball,  struck  at 
it  wildly,  and  continued  upon  his  head 
long  course  until  he  was  lost  to  sight  in 
the  shadows. 

"  That  was  Topley.  I  think  you  used 
to  know  him,"  remarked  Bingley,  in  a 
hard,  cold  voice. 

And,  indeed,  Morgan  Gordon  had  known 
the  said  Topley  very  well.  He  had 
played  behind  him  only  too  often.  That 
wretched  beggar,  Topley!  he  who  thought 
nothing  of  delaying  a  whole  field  of  play 
ers  while  he  remorselessly  fiddled  with 
his  grip  and  tried  over  his  missed  putts. 
He  had  richly  deserved  his  fate,  and,  aw 
ful  as  it  was,  Morgan  Gordon  could  not 
find  it  in  his  heart  to  pity  him. 
c  33 


THE   GOLFICIDE 

They  were  at  the  green  now,  and 
stopped  to  watch  a  player  who  was 
about  to  hole  out.  It  was  only  a  six- 
inch  putt ;  a  child  could  not  have  missed 
it.  But  even  as  the  ball  rolled  from  the 
putter  face  the  hole  moved  away,  step 
ping  to  one  side  as  unostentatiously  as 
though  it  had  been  some  uninterested 
spectator,  and  the  ball  rested  again  at 
that  fatal  six -inch  point.  The  player 
looked  up  into  heaven  while  one  might 
count  ten  very  slowly,  and  then,  with 
infinite  precaution,  prepared  for  another 
trial.  And  again  the  hole  moved  aside, 
and  there  was  a  sound  of  rattling  tin,  as 
though  it  were  chuckling  to  itself.  And 
the  player  !  Morgan  Gordon  looked  once 
upon  the  face  of  the  Misser  of  Short 
Putts,  and  turned  away  sick  at  heart. 
"I  have  lived  in  a  glass  house  myself," 
thought  he. 

The  view  towards  the  next  hole  was 

singularly  extended  and  depressing.     A 

flat,  gray  table  -  land   stretched  to  the 

horizon  on  every  side,  and  upon  its  deso- 

34 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

late  expanse  an  innumerable  company 
of  both  men  and  women  crawled  pain 
fully  about  on  their  hands  and  knees, 
while  they  labored  ceaselessly  to  fit 
formless  pieces  of  crumbling  turf  into 
the  irregular  holes  and  cups  with  which 
the  greensward  was  pitted  for  miles 
around.  And  through  the  dusky  air 
came  the  sound  of  their  crying,  exceed 
ing  bitter  and  dolorous. 

"These  are  they  who  neglected  to  re 
place  their  divots,"  said  Bingley,  sol 
emnly  ;  and  Morgan  Gordon  blanched 
to  a  ghastly  pallor.  He  knew  that  there 
must  be  at  least  a  square  mile  of  this 
sort  of  thing  standing  against  his  name, 
and  it  made  him  feel  quite  faint.  Bing 
ley  noticed  his  distress,  and  good-natur 
edly  offered  him  a  pull  from  his  pocket- 
flask.  Bitter  as  gall  was  the  draught, 
but  it  brought  back  the  color  to  Gordon's 
face,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  able 
to  go  on. 

"  Water  of  affliction  from  the  hazard 
in  front  of  the  ninth  tee,"  explained 
35 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

Bingley.  "  It's  the  only  beverage  out 
side  of  tea  that  is  allowed  at  the  Marion 
County  Club." 

They  were  now  passing  the  Great 
Sahara  sand-bunker,  and  Morgan  Gor 
don  saw  that  it  was  tenanted  by  a  vast 
body  of  men  armed  with  niblicks.  Upon 
the  back  of  each  was  a  huge  sack  of  sand, 
and  some  miserable  weaklings  were  bent 
almost  double  by  their  heavy  load.  But 
still  they  toiled  on  and  on,  and  every  now 
and  then  a  niblick  would  throw  up  a 
shower  of  sand,  which  invariably  fell 
straight  into  the  sack  upon  the  play 
er's  back,  and  so  added  to  his  burden. 
There  was  no  need  for  any  explanation 
of  this  lamentable  sight  —  these  were 
they  who  had  touched  sand  while  in  a 
hazard. 

"  My  mountain  would  completely  over 
whelm  me,"  thought  Morgan  Gordon, 
and  his  knees  grew  weak  ;  he  clutched 
at  Bingley  for  support. 

"  Come  on,"  commanded  his  compan 
ion  ;  "  the  night  wears  apace  ;"  and,  as 
36 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

one  in  a  dream,  Morgan  Gordon  braced 
himself  and  followed. 

It  was  but  little  that  he  could  after 
wards  recall  of  that  strange  and  terrible 
journey  ;  but  still  he  staggered  blindly 
onward,  his  feet  stumbling  upon  the  dark 
mountains  of  illimitable  hazards,  his  eye 
balls  seared  by  the  blistering,  yellow 
light,  his  throat  gripped  hard  by  the 
choking,  poisonous  fumes.  On  and  on, 
while  ever  there  pressed  and  thronged 
about  him  the  unnumbered  multitude  of 
the  lost.  There  were  men  in  that  dread 
ful  company  whom  he  had  met  at  other 
clubs  ;  men  who  were  still  members  of 
his  own  ;  men  who  had  moved  away  from 
Lauriston,  or  who  had  resigned  their 
memberships  ;  men  who  had  been  duf 
fers  and  men  who  had  been  medal-win 
ners.  But  one  mark  was  common  to 
them  all — the  blood -red  brand  of  the 
golficide — the  awful  seal  upon  which  are 
written  the  triple  figures  and  the  words 
that  no  gentleman  should  ever  use. 

There  were  men  there  who  had  often 

37 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

and  deliberately  sneaked  around  bunk 
ers  during  their  brief  golfing  life.  Now, 
when  they  drove  along  what  seemed  to 
be  a  fair  and  hazardless  green,  behold  ! 
unfathomable  abysses  suddenly  opened 
and  Alpine  heights  arose  before  their 
astonished  eyes.  And  so  the  ball  was 
trapped,  while  the  duffers  beat  impo- 
tently  upon  the  rocks  with  their  favorite 
play-clubs,  or  called  down  childish  curses 
upon  the  heads  of  nameless  Green  com 
mittees.  There  were  others  who  played 
with  a  ball  that  was  all  top,  and  others 
again  who  ceaselessly  pursued  through 
the  dun  air  the  whirling  fragments  of 
torn  score  -  cards,  and  still  others  who 
wore  huge  spiked  gags  in  their  bleeding 
mouths,  and  who  mumbled  inarticulately 
to  themselves  as  they  stood  around  the 
putting-greens  and  watched  their  fellows 
holing  out.  All  these  and  many  more, 
till  the  brain  of  Morgan  Gordon  reeled, 
and  his  heart  grew  weak  as  water  with 
the  horror  and  the  pity  of  it  all. 

And  now  they  were  approaching  the 
38 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

home  hole,  but,  marvellous  to  say,  it 
was  no  tin-lined  cup,  but  a  huge  and 
lofty  office  building  that  occupied  the 
familiar  putting-green.  It  was  brilliant 
ly  lighted  from  top  to  bottom,  and  on 
every  floor  there  were  endless  rows  of 
office  desks,  and  to  them  were  firmly 
chained  an  army  of  wan-faced  account 
ants.  Enormous  ledgers  lay  open  be 
fore  them,  and  ever  as  they  turned  the 
leaves  continually  they  did  cry  :  "  Nine 
and  eight  are  seventeen,  and  twelve 
make  twenty-nine." 

Morgan  Gordon  turned  to  Bingley, 
but  he  had  just  been  laid  out  stiff  by  a 
hard  cleek  drive,  and  a  couple  of  green- 
keepers  were  carrying  him  off  the  field. 
However,  a  player  who  had  just  finished 
his  round  courteously  supplied  the  de 
sired  information.  "  It  is  there  that  we 
count  up  our  scores,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
of  indescribable  sadness.  Morgan  Gor 
don  would  have  questioned  him  further, 
but  already  the  unfortunate  player  had 
been  hustled  into  an  elevator  and  im- 
39 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

mediately  whirled  up  to  the  twenty- 
sixth  story,  where  they  deal  only  in 
double  figures. 

"  What  are  you  doing  out  of  your 
bunker,  sir  ?  Get  back  to  your  bunker 
immediately — immediately,  I  say  !" 

Morgan  Gordon  looked  up.  A  portly 
personage,  with  cruel,  fishy  eyes  and  a 
hooked  nose,  stood  before  him.  In 
stinctively  Morgan  Gordon  knew  that 
this  could  be  none  other  than  the 
dreaded  Col.  Bogey.  What  could  he 
say  for  himself  —  how  explain  the  in 
voluntary  nature  of  his  presence  in 
this  unholy  place  ?  Would  it  be  pos 
sible  to  show  proof  that  he  was  not  a 
member  of  the  Honorable  Company  of 
Passed  and  Qualified  Golficides,  and, 
consequently,  not  amenable  to  their  dis 
cipline  ?  Col.  Bogey  looked  particularly 
forbidding  as  he  awaited  Morgan  Gor 
don's  reply. 

"  A  mistake,  I  think,  sir,"  faltered  the 
miserable  man. 

"Col.  Bogey  never  makes  a  mistake," 
40 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

returned  that  gentleman,  with  a  smile 
of  indescribable  malignity. 

"  But  I'm  not  a  golficide !"  almost 
shouted  Morgan  Gordon.  "  I'm  only  a 
visitor,  a  house  guest  of  Mr.  Bingley's." 

Col.  Bogey's  manner  underwent  a  sud 
den  change  to  polished  suavity. 

"  Not  a  golficide  ?  My  dear  sir,  you 
surprise  me.  But  we  can  easily  help 
you  out ;  we  have  all  the  appliances  at 
hand.  Allow  me — " 

But  in  a  very  ecstasy  of  fear  Mor 
gan  Gordon  had  wrenched  himself  free 
of  that  cold  and  grizzly  clutch.  He 
breathed  hard  and  fast. 

"  I  have  about  decided,  indeed  I  am 
quite  sure,  sir,  that  I  had  better  think 
it  over  a  little  longer.  An  excellent 
thing,  no  doubt,  this-er-golficide,  but  I 
don't  want  to  do  anything  which  I 
might  have  cause  to  regret.  Perhaps 
next  spring,  or  in  a  month  from  now — 
What's  that  ?  Never  !  Ah  ! — " 

Morgan  Gordon  lay  fiat  upon  his  back, 
having  been  treacherously  assailed  from 
41 


THE    GOLF1C1DE 

behind  by  two  of  Col.  Bogey's  min 
ions. 

"  Fool  !  Duffer  !"  thundered  the  in 
censed  Colonel  as  he  strode  over  his  vic 
tim's  prostrate  form.  "  Did  you  think  to 
play  with  Bogey  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  Your  curi 
osity  will  cost  you  dear  enough  before 
we  part  company.  You  have  seen  al 
together  too  much,  and  were  you  to  es 
cape  me  now  there  would  never  be 
another  golficide  from  Shinnecock  to 
Baltusvol.  Perish,  then,  Morgan  Gor 
don,  in  all  the  plenitude  of  your  golfing 
sins,  and  they  are  many,  indeed.  You 
used  to  sneak  around  the  Pons  Asino- 
rum,  I  believe ;  from  henceforth  let 
each  succeeding  night  find  you  bunk 
ered  there,  trapped  by  your  own  tee 
shot." 

"Mercy!"  but  the  cry  halted,  inar 
ticulate  upon  the  parched  lips. 

"A  lethal  agent!  the  swiftest  and 
the  surest  of  them  all !"  shouted  the 
Colonel. 

An  attendant  stepped  forward  with 
42 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

an  oblong  package  done  up  in  whity- 
brown  wrapping-paper,  and  Col.  Bogey, 
snatching  it  from  his  hand,  began  to 
tear  off  the  wrappers. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  One  dose  of  this,  and  I 
can  promise  you  that  you  will  never 
play  golf  again.  Ah  !  you  will,  eh  ?" 

Morgan  Gordon,  in  his  agony,  was 
straining  hard  at  his  bonds.  They 
cracked  and  partially  gave  way.  But 
the  Co/one!  was  kneeling  upon  his  breast, 
and  Gordon  was  at  a  tremendous  disad 
vantage.  Even  as  he  caught  at  his  ene 
my's  throat  the  heavy  hand  descended. 

"Take  that,  and  be  bunkered  to 
you  !"  yelled  the  infuriated  Colonel.  The 
whity- brown  parcel  fell  with  crushing 
weight  upon  his  temple,  and  Morgan 
Gordon  knew  no  more. 

*  *  *  * 

The  morning  sunshine  was  streaming 
through  the  open  window,  and  for  some 
minutes  Morgan  Gordon  lay  perfectly 
still  in  the  utter  exhaustion  that  is  wont 
to  follow  upon  sudden  relief  from  over- 

43 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

whelming  physical  and  mental  strain. 
Then,  as  his  mind  grew  clearer,  the  ugly 
horror  of  that  last  fearful  struggle  be 
gan  to  pass  away,  and  he  drew  a  long 
breath  of  intense  thankfulness.  So  it 
had  only  been  a  dream — only  that,  and 
nothing  more.  The  clock  struck  eight, 
and  the  familiar  sound  brought  with  it 
a  fresh  accession  of  confidence  and  re 
lief.  He  was  himself  again,  the  terrors 
of  the  night  were  a  thing  of  the  past, 
unsubstantial  shadows  that  had  fled 
away  before  the  honest  morning  light. 
He  jumped  out  of  bed  and  laughed 
aloud.  "Golficide,  indeed  !  what  a  roar 
ing  farce  it  had  been.  How  could  he 
even  in  a  nightmare — "  The  words 
froze  upon  his  lips,  and  he  stood  mo 
tionless,  staring  stupidly  at  an  object 
lying  upon  his  writing-desk. 

//  was  an  oblong  package  done  iip  in 
ivJiity-brown  wrapping  paper. 

•**#-* 

An  hour  later  Morgan  Gordon  sat  in 
the   Townley  drawing  -  room,   awaiting 

44 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

the  issue  of  his  fate.  He  had  hoped  to 
come  bearing  with  him  the  first-fruits 
of  a  great  renunciation,  but,  since  the 
gods  had  willed  it  otherwise,  he  must 
needs  be  content.  But  how  about  Alice 
Townley  ?  She  had  made  her  conditions  ; 
would  she  be  satisfied  with  anything 
short  of  their  literal  fulfilment  ?  And 
so  Morgan  Gordon  waited. 

She  stood  before  him,  exceeding  fair 
in  her  glorious  young  womanhood.  A 
red  spot  burned  on  either  cheek,  her 
lips  were  parted  expectantly,  but  she 
waited  for  him  to  speak.  He  rose  and 
faced  her  steadily. 

"  I  could  not  do  it,"  he  said,  briefly. 

The  offended  majesty  of  the  woman 
scorned  possessed  her  wholly.  "  So  you 
prefer  your  golf ;  I  thought  that  it 
would  be  that  way."  Her  eyes  blazed. 
"  Your  golf  !  I  am  humiliated,  in 
deed." 

Gordon  winced  at  that,  but  he  would 
make  one  final  appeal.  "  But  you  do 
not,  cannot  understand.  This  golfi- 

45 


THE   GOLFICIDE 

cide,  of  which  we  have  spoken  so  light 
ly,  is  an  act  that  means  something 
more — " 

"  Than  my  love." 

The  challenge  of  that  look  was  as  the 
clash  of  rapiers  in  salute.  And  then, 
suddenly,  and  with  a  great  thrill,  Mor 
gan  Gordon  knew  his  own  heart.  What ! 
had  he  been  seeking  to  bargain  for 
this  precious  thing  that  men  call  love  ? 
When  one  has  found  an  inestimable 
jewel  in  the  great  world-bazaar,  dare  he 
stop  to  haggle  over  its  price?  can  he 
hope  to  cheapen  it,  except  to  his  own 
irretrievable  loss  ?  Quick  !  he  must  not 
hesitate  now. 

"  No  ;  not  more  than  that,  not  more 
than  your  love."  He  took  from  his 
pocket  the  oblong  package,  still  in  its 
whity  -  brown  wrapper.  He  smiled  as 
he  held  it  out  for  her  to  see.  Miss 
Townley  drew  back  ;  there  was  some 
thing  in  this  that  she  did  not  like. 

"  I  hope  that  you  are  not  going  to  do 
anything  foolish."  She  spoke  with  as- 
46 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

perity,  but  there  was  a  new  note  in  the 
cadence  of  her  voice. 

"  Only  golficide.  I,  at  least,  went  far 
enough  to  procure  the  means  to  that 
desirable  end.  And  so,  Voila  !" 

Womanlike,  she  had  repented  at  the 
very  instant  of  her  triumph.  "  Put  the 
horrid  thing  away,"  she  said,  pettishly. 
"  It  makes  me  shiver  to  look  at  it.  And 
such  nonsense,  too." 

"  It  is  the  only  way,"  said  Gordon, 
steadily.  He  broke  the  seal  °f  tne 
wrapper,  and  cut  the  string  that  bound 
it. 

"  Don't !"  and  with  a  wholly  instinct 
ive  impulse  she  put  out  her  hand  to  re 
strain  him. 

"  Too  late  !"  and  as  the  torn  wrapper 
fluttered  to  the  floor,  darkness  de 
scended  like  a  veil  before  Alice  Town- 
ley's  eyes.  And  Morgan  Gordon  stood 
alone,  holding  in  his  hand  the  accursed 
thing. 

//  was  the  Badminton  volume  on  Golf, 
edited  by  Horace  G.  HutcJiinson.  Fifth 

47 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

edition,  fully  revised,  witJi  new  plates  and 
additional  reading-matter. 

With   a   firm   hand   Morgan    Gordon 
turned  to  the  chapter  headed  "Elemen 
tary  Instruction,"  and  began  to  read. 
*  *  #  * 

It  was  in  the  smoking-room  of  the 
Marion  County  Club  that  I  sat  with 
Morgan  Gordon  and  listened  to  this 
strange  story.  He  had  just  returned 
from  his  honeymoon,  and  was  as  happy 
as  any  rnan  can  ever  hope  to  be  on  this 
old  gray  earth.  When  he  had  finished 
he  looked  at  me  gravely. 

"  Of  course  I  understand  the  point 
you  are  making,"  I  began,  hesitatingly. 
"  Everybody  knows  that  the  man  who 
goes  in  for  Badminton  never  plays  golf 
again.  There's  your  golficide  all  right 
enough,  but  isn't  there  something  more  ? 
Logically,  you  are  a  golficide,  and  con 
demned  for  life  to  the  horrors  of  the 
Pons  Asinorum.  But,  frankly,  you  don't 
impress  me  that  way." 

"And    quite    rightly,   too,"    returned 
4S 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

Gordon,  with  a  hearty  chuckle.  "  As  of 
old,  I  play  a  cleek  shot  wide  to  the  left, 
and  then  sneak  a  brassey  around  the 
corner.  I  haven't  been  in  the  bunker 
once  in  three  weeks." 

I  confessed  my  entire  inability  to  take 
his  meaning. 

"  Simply  upon  the  principle  that  a 
man  who  has  taken  an  overdose  of 
morphine  doesn't  die.  I  have  never 
told  anybody  before,  but  the  fact  is 
that  I  started  my  career  not  with 
golf,  but  with  the  exercises  and  move 
ments  recommended  in  the  well-known 
golfing  manuals  of  Messrs.  Everard, 
Linskill,  Forgan,  Park,  and  Sir  Walter 
Simpson.  I  knew  them  all  long  be 
fore  the  Marion  County  Club  was  or 
ganized,  or  I  had  even  seen  a  golf 
ball.  Cut  approaches,  wrist  shots,  three- 
quarter  strokes  !  why,  I  was  accumulat 
ing  them  by  the  dozen,  while  you  fel 
lows  were  wasting  your  time  playing 
matches  and  making  the  ball  go.  With 
every  new  book  there  was  a  fresh  lot  of 
D  49 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

'em,  and  you  can't  imagine  the  intense 
fascination  that  there  is  in  sorting  out 
and  classifying  the  new  specimens.  You 
wouldn't  believe  it,  but  there  are  twelve 
distinct  styles  for  driving,  and  I've  cata 
logued  no  fewer  than  twenty-six  ap 
proach  systems  and  one  hundred  and 
nineteen  putting  attitudes.  Why,  my 
dear  boy,  there  isn't  a  collection  like 
mine  anywhere  on  earth  ;  the  British 
Museum  has  repeatedly  asked  me  to 
name  my  own  price." 

Morgan  stopped  to  relight  his  pipe, 
but  I  could  only  look  at  him  in  stupid 
wonder  ;  words  failed  me. 

"  You  can  therefore  imagine,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  the  joy  I  felt  when  that  whity- 
brown  parcel  resolved  itself  into  the 
latest  edition  of  Mr.  Hutchinson's  Bad 
minton.  Here  was  still  another  game 
for  me  to  learn,  a  new  style  to  analyze 
and  dissect  and  classify ;  for,  curiously 
enough,  I  had  never  seen  the  Badminton 
volume  before.  And  what  a  glorious 
game  it  is,  with  its  '  slow  back,'  '  don't 
50 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

press,'  *  keep  your  eye  on  the  ball '  !  I 
tell  you,  old  man,  there's  nothing  like 
it,  nothing  on  earth.  Why,  even  Mrs. 
Gordon  likes  the  Badminton  game,  and 
she  is  beginning  to  play  it  very  well,  too. 
She  was  a  little  suspicious  of  it  at  first, 
for  it  does  bear  some  resemblance  to 
golf,  but  now  that  she  has  tried  it  she 
can  easily  see  the  tremendous  difference. 
Ah  !  but  it  was  a  red-letter  day  for  me 
when  the  devil,  or  Col.  Bogey,  or  the  post 
man,  or  whoever  it  was,  left  that  whity- 
brown  package  on  my  writing-table." 

I  found  my  voice  at  last.  "  I  think  I 
understand  it  now,"  I  said.  "  You  had 
only  been  playing  the  '  Golf-Without-a- 
Coach '  game  and  Mr.  Linskill's  game 
and  Mr.  Everard's  game  and  Park's 
game,  and  had  never  played  golf  at  all." 

"  Precisely,"  and  Morgan  Gordon 
beamed  with  pleasure  at  my  acuteness. 

"And  consequently,  not  being  a  golf 
er,  it  was  impossible  for  you  to  commit 
golficide,  even  with  the  aid  of  Badmin 
ton" 

51 


THE    GOLFICIDE 

"  Right  you  are,  my  boy.  Naturally 
it  follows  that  I  can  never  now  hope  to 
be  a  golfer — I've  been  through  too  much 
for  that.  But  I  like  Mr.  Hutchinson's 
Badminton,  and  there's  quite  enough  in 
it  to  satisfy  my  humble  ambitions.  It's 
a  great  thing,  moreover,  that  Mrs.  Gor 
don  can  enjoy  it  with  me." 

A  ball  crashed  through  the  window, 
coming  from  the  direction  of  the  seven 
teenth  tee.  But  what  an  unearthly  slice  ! 
Who  could  have  been  guilty  of  it  ?  We 
rushed  to  the  window  and  looked  over 
at  the  teeing-ground.  Robinson  Brown 
was  standing  there  with  a  perplexed  ex 
pression  on  his  broad,  good-humored 
face. 

"  It's  a  pity  that  some  golfers  don't 
know  when  they  are  dead  and  buried," 
remarked  Morgan  Gordon.  "  If  you  will 
examine  the  club  copy  of  Badminton  you 
will  find  Brown's  visiting-card  at  page 
86,  or  thereabouts." 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 


AT  the  age  of  thirty-five  but  one  illu 
sion  remained  to  Henry  Alderson,  rich, 
single,  and  a  member  in  good  and  regu 
lar  standing  of  the  Marion  County  Golf 
Club.  It -is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that 
it  was  only  in  his  capacity  as  a  golfer 
that  he  lived  again  in  the  rose-colored 
atmosphere  of  youth,  for  after  the  third 
decade  there  is  no  other  possible  form 
of  self-deception.  And  it  is  equally  su 
perfluous  to  remark  that  he  was  a  very 
poor  golfer,  for  it  is  only  the  duffers  at 
the  royal  and  ancient  game  who  have 
any  leisure  for  the  exercise  of  the  imagi 
nation  ;  the  medal-winners  are  obliged 
to  confine  their  attention  to  hitting  the 
55 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

ball  clean  and  to  keeping  their  eye  in 
for  short  putts.  It  was  for  Henry  Al- 
derson  and  his  kind  to  keep  trade  brisk 
for  the  ball  and  club  makers,  and  to 
win  phenomenal  matches  against  the 
redoubtable  Col.  Bogey — a  game  which 
may  be  magnificent,  but  which  is 
certainly  not  golf.  Still,  the  diversion 
was  unquestionably  a  harmless  one,  and 
served  to  keep  him  in  the  open  air  and 
from  an  overdose  application  to  busi 
ness.  Moreover,  it  was  absolutely  cer 
tain  that  the  secret  of  success  lay  well 
within  his  grasp.  A  few  more  days  of 
practice,  the  final  acquisition  of  that  pe 
culiar  turn  of  the  wrist,  and  then  ! — 
Henry  Alderson  took  a  fresh  grip  on 
the  familiar  lofting-iron  that  had  de 
ceived  him  so  often,  and  topped  another 
ball  along  the  turf.  Of  course  the  de 
lusion  was  a  hopeless  one,  but  he  was 
happy  in  its  possession  ;  and  if  we  who 
look  on  have  become  wiser  in  our  day 
and  generation  —  why,  so  much  the 
worse  for  us. 

56 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

It  was  a  bright  autumn  morning,  and 
Henry  Alderson  stood  at  the  tee  look 
ing  at  the  little  red  flag  that  marked 
the  location  of  the  tenth  hole,  two  hun 
dred  and  thirty  yards  away.  He  had 
done  fairly  well  on  the  outgoing  course, 
but  this  hole  had  always  been  a  stum 
bling-block  to  him,  and  that  dreadful 
double  hazard,  a  scant  hundred  yards 
down  the  course,  looked  particularly 
savage  on  this  particular  morning.  On 
the  left  lurked  an  enormous  sand  -  pit, 
which  was  popularly  known  as  the 
"  Devil "  ;  and  the  "  Deep  Sea,"  in  the 
shape  of  an  ice  pond,  was  only  a  few 
yards  to  the  right.  Straight  between 
them  lay  the  path  to  glory,  but  for  a 
"  slice  "  or  a  "  foozle  "  there  remained 
only  destruction  and  double  figures. 

Henry  Alderson  shuddered  as  he 
looked,  and  incontinently  forgot  all 
about  "  slow  back."  Crack !  and  the 
"gutty"  had  disappeared  beneath  the 
treacherous  waters  of  the  "  Deep  Sea." 
With  painful  deliberation  he  teed  anoth- 
57 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

er  ball  and  mentally  added  two  to  his 
score.  The  club-head  swung  back,  and 
for  one  fatal  instant  his  eye  wandered 
from  the  ball.  Bang !  and  it  had  gone 
to  the  "  Devil."  Without  a  word  Mr. 
Alderson  took  his  expensive  collection 
of  seventeen  clubs  from  the  hands  of 
his  caddie  and  descended  into  the  bunk 
er  to  meet  the  Evil  One. 

It  was  just  fifteen  minutes  after  elev 
en  when  Henry  Alderson  entered  upon 
his  ghostly  conflict  with  all  the  Powers 
of  Darkness.  At  twenty  minutes  of 
twelve  the  caddie,  tired  of  inaction, 
crept  cautiously  to  the  edge  of  the 
bunker  and  looked  in.  His  master  held 
in  his  hand  a  costly  patented  "driver" 
that  was  alleged  to  be  unbreakable. 
Placing  one  foot  upon  the  head  of  the 
club,  he  kicked  judiciously  but  with  de 
termination  at  the  precise  place  where 
the  "  scare  "  is  whipped  to  the  shaft,  and 
then  carefully  added  the  fragments  to 
the  heap  of  broken  putters,  cleeks,  and 
brasseys  that  lay  before  him.  The  boy, 
53 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

who  was  wise  in  his  generation,  waited 
for  no  more,  but  fled  to  the  club-house. 

Henry  Alderson  came  up  out  of  the 
bunker,  took  half  a  dozen  new  balls  from 
the  pocket  of  his  red  coat,  and  deliber 
ately  flung  them  into  the  "  Deep  Sea." 
He  then  tore  his  score-card  into  bits, 
divested  himself  of  cap  and  shoes,  laid 
his  watch  and  purse  where  they  would 
be  readily  observed,  and  walked  with  a 
firm  step  to  the  border  of  the  pond. 

Suddenly  a  quickly  moving  shadow 
projected  itself  over  his  shoulder,  and  a 
cheerful,  albeit  an  unfamiliar,  voice  hailed 
him.  He  turned  and  saw  a  stranger  stand 
ing  close  beside  him.  The  new-comer  was 
an  odd -looking  personage,  dressed  in  a 
semi  -  clerical  suit  of  rusty  black,  and 
carrying  an  old  cotton  umbrella  and  a 
well-stuffed  carpet-bag.  He  had  a  keen- 
looking,  smooth-shaven  face,  with  pierc 
ing  black  eyes  and  an  aggressive  nose. 
His  complexion  was  of  a  curious  pallor, 
as  though  untouched  by  wind  or  sun, 
but  there  was  nothing  in  his  appearance 
59 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

to  indicate  either  ill -health  or  decrepi 
tude. 

"  Possibly  a  colporteur,"  thought  Hen 
ry  Alderson.  "At  any  rate,  he's  no 
golfer." 

"  How  are  you  making  out  ?"  inquired 
the  stranger,  in  a  tone  of  polite  interest. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Henry  Alderson's 
tongue  to  answer,  "  Fifty-five  for  nine 
holes "  (his  actual  score  being  sixty- 
three),  but  at  this  awful  moment,  when 
all  the  solid  realities  of  life  were  crum 
bling  away  beneath  his  feet,  the  lie 
seemed  so  small,  so  pitiful,  so  mean,  and 
he  replied,  "  Came  out  in  forty-two,  but 
then  I  lost  a  shot  through  having  my 
ball  lifted  by  a  dog." 

The  stranger  did  not  seem  to  be  visi 
bly  impressed.  "  Pooh  !"  he  said,  airily  ; 
"  I  should  hardly  call  that  golf." 

"  Perhaps  you  play  yourself,"  returned 
Alderson,  with  what  he  considered  to  be 
a  sarcastic  inflection. 

"Not  as  a  general  thing,  though  I  do 
a  round  or  so  occasionally,"  said  the 
Go 


'"  POSSIBLY  A  COLPORTEUR,'  THOUGHT  HENRY  ALDERSON  " 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

dark  gentleman,  placidly.  Then  open 
ing  his  carpet-bag  and  taking  out  a  golf- 
ball,  "  It's  a  very  pretty  drive  from 
where  we  stand.  If  you  will  allow  me." 

He  teed  the  ball,  and,  with  what 
seemed  to  be  an  almost  contemptuous 
disregard  of  all  rules  for  correct  driving, 
swung  against  it  the  crook  handle  of  his 
old  cotton  umbrella.  Crack  !  and  it  went 
away  like  a  rifle -bullet,  close  to  the 
ground  for  one  hundred  and  twenty 
yards,  and  then,  towering  upward  in  the 
manner  of  a  rocketing  pigeon,  caught 
the  full  strength  of  the  breeze  for  a 
hundred  yards  of  further  carry,  and 
dropped  dead  on  the  putting-green. 
Henry  Alderson  gasped. 

"  Shall  we  walk  on  ?"  said  the  stranger. 

It  was  a  long  putt  on  the  green,  but 
the  umbrella  was  again  equal  to  the  oc 
casion.  Henry  Alderson's  eyes  sparkled. 
This  was  an  umbrella  worth  having. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  what  kind  of 
a  club  you  use,"  said  the  gentleman  in 
black,  apparently  reading  his  thoughts. 
61 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

"  But  with  this  particular  make  of  ball 
you  can  accomplish  any  shot  at  will,  no 
matter  how  difficult." 

"  I'd  like  to  try  that  kind  of  ball,"  said 
Alderson,  eagerly.  "Can  you  give  me 
the  maker's  address  ?" 

"  If  you  will  accept  this  one,  it  is  en 
tirely  at  your  service." 

Henry  Alderson  stretched  out  his 
hand,  and  then  as  quickly  withdrew  it. 
He  remembered  now  that  when  the 
obliging  stranger  had  opened  his  bag  it 
had  appeared  to  be  filled  with  what 
looked  like  legal  papers — contracts  per 
haps — and  there  was  a  dreadful  signifi 
cance  in  the  fact  that  all  the  signatures 
were  in  red.  Of  course  it  might  have 
been  carmine  ink,  and  probably  was,  but 
it  looked  suspicious. 

"  If  it's  a  question  of  signing  my  name 
to  anything,"  he  faltered,  "  I  don't  think 
that  I  can  accept.  I've  made  it  a  rule 
— er — never  to  go  upon  anybody's  pa 
per.  It's — er — business,  you  know." 

The  stranger  smiled  indulgently. 
62 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

"You  are  quite  right.  Nevertheless, 
you  need  have  no  scruples  about  ac 
cepting  my  gift,  for  there  is  no  obliga 
tion  of  any  kind  involved  in  the  trans 
action." 

Henry  Alderson  trembled,  and  looked 
furtively  at  the  dark  gentleman's  feet, 
which,  as  he  now  observed,  were  en 
cased"  in  a  pair  of  arctic  galoshes  some 
four  sizes  too  large.  Clearly  there  was 
no  definite  information  to  be  gained  in 
that  quarter  ;  and  as  the  field  that  they 
were  in  was  used  as  a  pasture  for  cattle, 
the  presence  of  hoof-marks  could  mean 
nothing  either  way.  There  was  noth 
ing  to  do  but  to  chance  it,  and  he  was 
not  long  in  making  up  his  mind.  He 
took  the  ball  and  stowed  it  away  in  his 
pocket. 

The  stranger  nodded  approvingly. 
M  think  that  I  may  congratulate  you 
in  advance  upon  your  success  in  win 
ning  the  club  handicap  this  after 
noon." 

"But  suppose  that  I  lose  the  ball?" 
63 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

said  Alderson,  with  a  sudden  accession 
of  doubtfulness. 

"  Impossible.  If  your  caddie  has  been 
negligent,  you  have  only  to  whistle,  and 
the  ball  will  keep  on  answering  *  Here ' 
until  you  come  up  with  it.  And,  more 
over,  it  is  indestructible." 

"  It  makes  no  difference  what  club  I 
use?" 

"  None  whatever.  If  you  care  to,  you 
can  drive  that  ball  two  hundred  yards 
with  a  feather  bolster." 

"  I  shall  endeavor  to  do  so,"  laughed 
Alderson.  "  You  won't — er — come  and 
have  a  bite  of  luncheon  with  me?" 

"Not  to-day,"  said  the  stranger,  po 
litely.  "  But  we  shall  probably  meet 
again.  Good  luck  to  you,  and  may  your 
success  end  only  with  the  winning  of  the 
Hong-Kong  Medal." 

The  two  men  bowed,  and  the  dark  gen 
tleman  walked  off.  He  went  to  the  edge 
of  the  "Devil"  sand -bunker,  marched 
straight  into  it,  and  disappeared.  Moved 
by  a  sudden  impulse,  Henry  Alderson 
64 


THE     HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

followed  and  looked  in.  There  was  noth 
ing  to  be  seen,  but  he  thought  that  he 
could  detect  a  slight  trace  of  sulphur  in 
the  air.  However,  one  may  be  easily  de 
ceived  in  such  matters. 

As  Henry  Alderson  trudged  back  to 
the  club-house  it  seemed  as  though  the 
events  of  the  last  half -hour  had  been 
nothing  more  than  the  disordered  fan 
cies  of  a  noon-day  nightmare.  But  there 
was  the  ball  in  his  hand,  the  tangible 
evidence  of  what  had  happened.  And, 
after  all,  the  bargain  had  been  entirely  in 
his  favor.  Whoever  the  dark  gentleman 
may  have  been,  and  Henry  Alderson 
shuddered  as  he  reflected  upon  one  un 
holy  possibility,  he  was  certainly  no  busi 
ness  man.  The  wonderful  ball  was  in 
his,  Henry  Alderson's,  possession,  and 
his  chances  of  eternal  salvation  were  as 
good  as  ever. 

"  Somebody  has  been  stupid,"   chuc 
kled  Mr.  Alderson  to  himself  as  he  en 
tered  the  grill-room  of  the  club  and  took 
up  the  luncheon  card. 
E  65 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

The  handicap  match  had  been  put 
down  for  three  o'clock.  It  was  a  month 
ly  affair,  and  the  winner  had  the  proud 
distinction  of  wearing  a  silver  cross  for 
the  following  period  of  thirty  days.  It 
was  a  coveted  honor,  but  of  course  not 
to  be  compared  with  the  Hong  -  Kong 
Medal,  which  was  always  played  for  at 
the  end  of  the  golfing  year.  No  one 
knew  why  it  was  called  the  Hong-Kong 
Medal,  and  it  was  certain  that  its  donor 
had  never  in  his  life  been  out  of  the  Mid 
dle  States.  But  the  appellation  seemed 
to  chime  in  with  the  somewhat  fanciful 
phraseology  that  prevails  in  all  things 
pertaining  to  golf,  and  it  possessed  a 
sonorous  clang  tint  that  was  suggestive 
of  tomtoms  and  barbaric  victories. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Henry  Al- 
derson  invariably  entered  all  the  club 
competitions,  and  as  invariably  came 
out  at  the  bottom  of  the  list.  And  yet 
no  one  had  worked  harder  to  insure 
success.  He  was  absolutely  saturated 
with  the  theory  and  literature  of  golf, 
66 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

and  could  rattle  off  the  roster  of  open 
and  amateur  champions  with  the  fluen 
cy  of  a  prize  Sunday-school  scholar  re 
citing  the  names  of  the  kings  of  Judah 
and  Israel.  He  neglected  nothing  in 
the  way  of  precept  or  practice,  and 
when  the  club  champion  got  married 
he  had  even  thought  of  following  his 
example  for  its  possible  effect  upon  his 
game.  But  when  he  ventured  to  pro 
pose  the  expedient  to  Miss  Kitty  Crake 
he  met  with  a  decided  rebuff. 

"  I  shall  never,"  said  Miss  Crake,  "  mar 
ry  a  man  who  is  not  on  the  scratch  list. 
When  you  have  won  the  Hong -Kong 
Medal,  why  then  we  shall  see." 

Of  course,  such  an  answer  could  be 
nothing  less  than  the  most  absolute  of 
refusals.  Even  in  his  wildest  dreams  he 
had  never  hoped  to  come  in  better  than 
fourth  in  the  monthly  handicaps,  and 
that  too  with  an  allowance  of  thirty-six 
strokes.  It  is  true  that  there  were  other 
young  ladies  who  might  have  accepted 
a  less  heroic  standard  of  excellence  than 
67 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

the  winning  of  the  Hong  -  Kong,  but 
Henry  Alderson  felt  that  the  matri 
monial  experiment  was  not  worth  try 
ing  unless  Kitty  Crake  could  be  induced 
to  take  part  in  it.  And  so  there  the 
matter  rested. 

When  Mr.  Alderson  stepped  to  the 
teeing  -  ground  that  afternoon  for  his 
first  drive  he  felt  unaccountably  cool 
and  collected,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Miss  Crake  stood  in  the  very  forefront 
of  the  "gallery."  It  was  one  hundred 
and  seventy -seven  yards  to  the  first 
hole,  and  he  usually  "hooked"  his  ball 
into  the  "  Punch  -  bowl  "  hollow  at  the 
left,  or  else  feebly  topped  it  along  the 
ground  in  the  one  consuming  desire  to 
get  away  from  the  spectators.  But  to 
day  there  should  be  another  tale  to 
tell.  For  an  instant  he  thought  of  di 
recting  the  magic  ball  to  land  upon  the 
putting-green  dead  at  the  hole,  but  he 
reflected  that  such  a  phemonenal  stroke 
would  undoubtedly  be  put  down  as  a 
fluke.  It  was  the  part  of  wisdom  to  go 

68 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

quietly,  and  so  he  picked  out  a  spot 
some  twenty  yards  short  of  the  green, 
but  in  good  line,  and  affording  a  gener 
ous  "lie." 

As  he  lifted  his  club  and  swung  through 
he  was  uncomfortably  conscious  of  hav 
ing  transgressed  at  least  eighteen  out  of 
the  twenty -three  cardinal  precepts  for 
correct  driving,  but  already  the  ball  was 
on  its  way,  and,  amidst  a  hearty  burst  of 
applause,  led,  as  he  could  see,  by  Kitty 
Crake,  it  fell  precisely  as  he  had  deter 
mined.  A  skilful  approach  laid  him 
dead,  and  the  hole  was  his  in  three. 
A  subdued  buzz  ran  around  the  circle 
of  the  "  gallery,"  and  everybody  bent  for 
ward  to  watch  his  second  drive  across 
the  "  Punch-bowl."  Straight  over  the 
yawning  hollow  flew  the  ball,  and  the 
crowd  clapped  again  ;  but  the  play  was 
now  too  far  away  to  watch,  and  there 
were  others  ready  to  drive  off.  Henry 
Alderson  disappeared  in  the  direction 
of  the  "  meadow  "  hole,  and  Miss  Crake 
went  to  the  club-house  piazza  to  make 
69 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

tea.  "Poor  fellow,"  she  thought,  "his 
foozling  will  be  all  the  worse  when  it 
does  come." 

It  was  a  very  successful  tournament, 
and  Henry  Alderson  won  it  by  the  cred 
ible  score  of  eighty  net.  He  blushed  as 
the  President  handed  him  the  silver 
cross,  but  the  spectators  clapped  vigor 
ously  ;  for  he  had  always  been  a  good 
fellow,  albeit  a  bad  golfer,  and  his  vic 
tory  was  a  popular  one. 

"  Splendid  !"  said  Miss  Kitty  Crake, 
and  Henry  Alderson  ascended  forthwith 
into  the  seventh  heaven. 

During  the  month  that  followed  there 
were  some  tremendous  surprises  in  store 
for  the  record-holders.  Three  days  after 
the  handicap  Alderson  did  the  course  in 
eighty-two,  thereby  breaking  the  ama 
teur  record,  and  that  same  afternoon  he 
tied  the  best  professional  score.  The 
Green  Committee  promptly  reduced  him 
to  the  scratch  list,  and  there  was  some 
informal  talk  of  sending  him  to  repre 
sent  the  club  at  the  National  Amateur 
70 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

meeting.  Montague,  the  holder  of  the 
Hong -Kong  Medal  for  two  years  run 
ning,  was  visibly  uneasy.  He  began  to 
spend  more  time  on  the  links,  and  held 
surreptitious  conversations  with  Alder- 
son's  favorite  caddie. 

But  there  was  a  friend  as  well  as  an 
enemy  to  keep  close  watch  upon  Henry 
Alderson.  There  was  a  change  in  him 
that  only  Kitty  Crake  noticed  at  first 
— a  change  that  both  annoyed  and 
alarmed  her.  The  becoming  modesty 
with  which  he  had  achieved  his  first 
successes  had  entirely  disappeared.  Al 
most  imperceptibly  he  had  grown  self- 
sufficient  and  opinionated,  and  his  atti 
tude  towards  his  fellow-players  was  at 
times  little  short  of  offensive.  He  seemed 
to  take  an  insolent  delight  in  openly  flout 
ing  the  hoary  traditions  of  the  game,  and 
in  giving  the  lie  direct  to  each  and  ev 
ery  venerable  truism  incrusted  in  golf 
ing  lore.  He  invariably  used  a  wrong 
grip  ;  he  played  with  a  full  swing  for 
all  distances,  including  the  shortest  of 
71 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

putts,  and  he  never  under  any  circum 
stances  condescended  to  keep  his  eye  upon 
the  ball.  It  was  maddening  to  his  fel 
low-golfers,  but  his  scores  were  a  suffi 
cient  answer  to  all  remonstrances.  In 
deed,  it  may  be  said  that  his  steadily 
decreasing  averages  were  beginning  to 
cause  the  Green  Committee  considera 
ble  uneasiness.  For  a  player  to  return 
cards  of  sixty -four  and  then  fifty -six 
and  then  forty-nine  seemed  to  argue  un 
favorably  for  the  sporting  character  of 
the  links.  Such  kind  of  play  was  plain 
ly  injuring  the  reputation  of  the  club, 
and  at  least  the  Honorary  Secretary  was 
emboldened  to  hint  as  much.  The  very 
next  day  Henry  Alderson  returned  a  to 
tal  of  eighteen  for  the  full  round  of  holes, 
and  handed  it  with  a  mocking  smile  to 
the  Honorary  Secretary  himself.  This 
was  too  much,  and  Henry  Alderson  was 
promptly  summoned  to  appear  before 
the  outraged  majesty  of  the  Green  Com 
mittee.  But  it  all  ended  in  smoke.  No 
one  could  deny  that  extraordinary  scores 
72 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

of  a  hole  in  one  stroke  had  been  made 
on  several  occasions,  and  in  this  case 
it  was  simply  an  established  phenome 
non  multiplied  by  itself  eighteen  times. 
"And,  gentlemen,"  concluded  Henry  Al- 
derson,  "  I  did  it  all  with  a  wooden  put 
ter." 

The  Green  Committee  had  nothing 
more  to  say,  but  they  were  plainly  dis 
satisfied,  and  at  once  set  about  putting 
in  some  new  hazards. 

And  yet— will  it  be  believed  ? — Henry 
Alderson  was  not  a  happy  man.  Ego 
tistical  and  arrogant  as  he  had  become, 
he  yet  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  he 
had  lost  immensely  in  the  esteem  of  his 
clubmates.  Nobody  cared  to  play  a 
match  with  him ;  and  although  at  first 
he  had  put  it  down  to  jealousy,  he  was 
gradually  forced  to  admit  to  himself 
that  the  reason  lay  deeper.  Worst  of 
all,  Kitty  Crake  was  decidedly  cool  in 
her  manner  towards  him.  He  could  not 
understand  it,  for  his  golf  was  certainly 
above  reproach,  and  he  knew  that  noth- 

73 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

ing  now  could  prevent  him  from  win 
ning  the  Hong-Kong  Medal.  Once  it  was 
pinned  upon  his  breast  he  would  be  in 
a  position  to  demand  an  explanation  and 
the  fulfilment  of  her  promise.  But  there 
was  still  another  reason  for  his  wishing 
that  the  match  was  over.  Strange  as  it 
may  appear,  the  very  name  of  golf  had 
become  an  abhorrence  to  him.  And  yet 
it  was  not  so  strange,  after  all,  when  one 
stops  to  consider.  There  is  nothing  so 
tiresome  as  perfection,  and  this  espe 
cially  applies  to  golf,  as  possessing  an 
essentially  feminine  nature.  It  is  the 
capriciousness,  the  inconstancy,  of  golf 
that  makes  it  a  folly  so  adorable,  and 
Henry  Alderson's  game  had  arrived  at 
a  pitch  of  intolerable  perfection.  He 
had  long  ago  discovered  that  the  ball 
would  not  be  a  party  to  a  poor  shot. 
Goaded  into  fury  by  the  monotonous 
consistency  of  his  play,  he  had  tried  the 
experiment  of  ordering  the  ball  into  a 
bunker,  or  at  least  a  bad  lie.  But  the 
soulless  piece  of  gutta  -  percha  would 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

have  none  of  his  foozling.  It  simply 
would  not  be  denied,  and  after  a  few 
trials  Henry  Alderson  resigned  himself 
to  his  fate,  comforting  himself  with  the 
reflection  that,  having  won  the  medal 
(and  Kitty  Crake),  he  would  give  up 
golf  forever. 

The  day  of  the  contest  for  the  Hong- 
Kong  Medal  had  come  at  last,  and  all 
golfdom  had  assembled  to  see  the  bat 
tle.  A  round-robin  protesting  against 
the  admission  of  Henry  Alderson  as  a 
competitor  had  been  presented  to  the 
Green  Committee,  but  that  autocratic 
body  had  decided  to  ignore  the  protest. 
"  It  will  be  better,"  said  a  wise  man,  "to 
let  him  win  rather  than  to  give  him  a 
handle  for  a  grievance.  Let  him  take 
the  medal,  and  then  we  can  settle  upon 
some  pretext  to  expel  him  from  the 
club.  Montague  has  had  detectives  on 
the  case,  and  thinks  he  can  prove  that 
Alderson  has  been  playing  tennis  within 
the  last  two  months.  That  will  be  suffi 
cient  in  the  eyes  of  all  true  golfers." 

75 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

As  it  happened,  Alderson  and  Mon 
tague  were  paired  for  the  great  event, 
and,  of  course,  they  had  the  gallery  with 
them.  Just  before  they  started  Alder- 
son  mustered  up  his  courage  and  walked 
over  to  where  Kitty  Crake  was  standing. 
She  did  not  raise  her  eyes  as  he  ap 
proached,  and  he  was  obliged  to  speak 
twice  before  he  could  gain  her  atten 
tion. 

"  I  trust  that  I  am  to  have  the  benefit 
of  your  good  wishes,"  he  said,  mean 
ingly. 

She  looked  at  him  in  frosty  surprise. 

"  I  don't  think  that  they  will  help  you 
much."  And  then,  with  cutting  delib 
eration,  "  I  devoutly  wish  that  the  Hong- 
Kong  Medal  had  never  existed." 

"  Mr.  Montague  and  Mr.  Alderson," 
called  out  the  referee.  The  two  con 
testants  came  forward,  and  Kitty  Crake 
ostentatiously  turned  her  back  as  the 
play  began. 

In  all  the  annals  of  the  Marion  Coun 
ty  Golf  Club  a  closer  and  more  exciting 
76 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

match  had  never  been  played.  Monta 
gue  was  certainly  putting  up  the  game 
of  his  life  ;  and  Alderson,  while  not 
showing  any  phenomenal  work,  was 
nevertheless  returning  a  faultless  score. 
Not  a  mistake  had  been  made  on  either 
side,  and  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
hole  honors  were  exactly  even.  But 
Montague  was  visibly  breaking  under 
the  strain. 

When  Montague  stepped  forward  to 
drive  for  the  home  hole  it  was  plain  that 
he  was  very  nervous.  Twice  he  tried 
to  tee  his  ball,  but  his  trembling  fingers 
refused  their  office,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  call  upon  a  caddie  for  assistance. 
As  he  came  up  for  the  "  address  "  he  was 
deathly  pale,  and  little  beads  of  sweat 
were  standing  upon  his  forehead.  The 
club  swung  back,  and  then  descended 
upon  the  ball,  but  with  a  feeble,  crooked 
blow  that  "sliced"  it  hopelessly  into 
the  bushes.  A  groan  went  up.  Monta 
gue  had  "  cracked,"  and  the  match  was 
lost. 

77 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

Up  to  this  point  Henry  Alderson  had 
played  as  though  in  a  dream.  At  last 
he  understood — those  cold,  stinging 
words  of  Kitty  Crake  could  have  but 
one  meaning.  She  did  not  wisJi  him  to 
win  !  It  was  only  too  plain  that  she 
had  never  loved  him,  and  that  she  re 
gretted  her  idle  words  about  the  winning 
of  the  medal  and  the  promise  that  they 
implied.  What  was  he  to  do  ? 

One  thing  was  certain  :  he  had  no 
chance,  in  any  event,  with  Kitty  Crake. 
Of  course  he  might  go  on  and  win  the 
medal,  and  then  humiliate  her  by  con 
temptuously  refusing  to  press  his  claim ; 
but  the  revenge  was  an  unmanly  one, 
and  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  adopt 
it.  Again,  he  might  withdraw,  and  so 
give  the  prize  to  Montague.  He  knew 
that  the  latter  was  desperately  anxious 
to  retain  possession  of  the  trophy.  It 
was  the  pride,  the  joy,  the  treasure,  of 
his  otherwise  empty  life.  The  Monta 
gue  infants  had  all  cut  their  teeth  upon 
the  medal's  firm  and  glittering  edge.  It 
73 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

was  the  family  fetich  ;  the  one  thing 
that  distinguished  them  from  the  com 
mon  herd  of  their  neighbors,  who  lived 
in  precisely  the  same  pattern  of  suburb 
an  villa,  but  whose  interest  in  life  nev 
er  rose  above  the  discussion  of  village 
improvements  or  the  election  of  a  ves 
tryman.  Henry  Alderson  hesitated ; 
his  heart  grew  soft  within  him.  And 
yet  to  give  it  up  after  it  had  cost  him 
so  much  ! 

"  Oh  yes,  a  fair  enough  player,  but  a 
trifle  short  in  his  driving." 

It  was  Montague  who  spoke,  and 
Henry  Alderson  felt  instinctively  that 
the  remark  referred  to  him.  His  cheeks 
burned  as  he  heard  the  half-veiled  in 
sult  that  only  a  golfer  can  understand 
in  its  full  significance,  and  he  inconti 
nently  forgot  all  about  his  generous 
resolution  to  withdraw.  He  stepped  up 
to  the  tee. 

"  I  dare  say  I  can  reach  the  green  in 
two,"  he  said,  carelessly. 

The  hole  was  some  four  hundred  yards 
79 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

away,  and  Montague  smiled  sarcastical 
ly.  His  enemy  was  about  to  be  deliv 
ered  into  his  hands. 

"  I've  done  two  hundred  and  forty 
yards  of  straight  carry,"  continued  Al- 
derson. 

"  Hym  !"  coughed  Montague. 

"  And  I'd  back  myself  to  make  it  three 
hundred." 

"Why  not  four?"  said  Montague. 

"  Six  hundred,  if  you  say  so,"  returned 
Alderson,  hotly. 

"Or  perhaps  out  of  sight,"  sneered 
Montague. 

"  Off  the  earth,"  retorted  Alderson. 

Montague  made  no  reply,  but  turned 
away  to  hide  his  satisfaction.  Alderson 
was  deliberately  going  to  "  press,"  and 
every  student  of  the  art  of  golf  knows 
what  that  implies.  But  there  is  noth 
ing  more  uncertain  than  a  certainty — 
in  golf. 

Henry  Alderson  swung  down  upon 
the  ball.  Shades  of  St.  Rule  !  but  was 
there  ever  such  a  mighty  drive  ?  Three 

So 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

hundred  yards  away,  and  it  was  still 
rising  into  the  blue  ether.  Another  in 
stant  and  it  had  passed  entirely  out  of 
sight,  lost  in  infinite  space.  The  spec 
tators  gasped,  and  Montague  turned 
livid.  But  stop  a  bit.  Where  was  the 
ball  ?  The  referee  looked  puzzled,  and 
the  caddies  stared  open-mouthed  into 
the  sky.  And  then  in  a  flash  it  dawned 
upon  Henry  Alderson  that  his  boast  had 
been  literally  made  good.  He  had  driv 
en  his  ball  off  the  earth. 

For  a  moment  his  heart  stood  still. 
With  the  ball  was  gone  his  golfing  repu 
tation,  and  gone  forever.  Was  there  any 
thing  else  for  him  in  life  ?  The  answer 
came  in  another  flash  of  inspiration. 
Yes  ;  he  was  a  free  man ;  now  he  could 
play  golf  again — his  own  game.  Forgotten 
was  the  Hong-Kong  Medal ;  forgotten  for 
the  nonce  was  Kitty  Crake  herself.  The 
fit  was  upon  him — the  berserker  rage  of 
the  true  duffer.  He  turned  to  the  referee. 

"I  acknowledge,"  he  said,  "the  pen 
alty  for  lost  ball,  and  play  a  new  one." 

F  8l 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

He  teed  a  ball,  an  ordinary  gutta-per 
cha,  and,  swinging  down  upon  it,  made 
the  most  bungling  of  "tops."  A  roar  of 
laughter  went  up,  and  Henry  Alderson 
joined  in  it,  the  heartiest  of  all.  He 
caught  Kitty  Crake's  eye,  and  she  was 
smiling  too.  Taking  a  brassey,  he  ad 
vanced  for  his  second  shot,  and  "missed 
the  globe  "  twice  running.  But  what  a 
delightful  sensation  it  was!  —  this  was 
something  like  golf. 

Finally,  he  succeeded  in  playing  inside 
of  Montague,  who  followed  with  a  splen 
didly  played  iron  shot  out  of  the  bush 
es.  Alderson  drove  into  a  bunker,  and 
noted,  with  an  exquisite  thrill  of  pleas 
ure,  that  his  ball  had  buried  itself  com 
pletely  in  the  sand.  It  took  him  three  to 
get  out,  and  the  crowd  applauded.  He 
"foozled  "  a  shot  into  a  clump  of  ever 
greens,  and  Kitty  Crake  clapped  her 
hands.  Montague  made  a  phenomenal 
approach,  and  landed  his  ball  dead  at 
the  hole.  Alderson  "  hooked  "  one  ball, 
"  sliced  "  another,  and  banged  a  third 
82 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

into  the  flag,  securing  a  lucky  "  rub." 
He  missed  two  short  putts,  and  then 
managed  to  hit  Montague's  ball,  holing 
it,  and  leaving  his  own  outside.  The 
laughter  of  the  "  gallery "  gods  cleft 
the  skies,  and  the  referee  stepped  for 
ward. 

"  Mr.  Montague  eighty  strokes,  Mr. 
Alderson  ninety  -  six.  Mr.  Montague 
wins  the  tournament,  and  retains  pos 
session  of  the  Hong-Kong  Medal." 

Curiously  enough,  it  seemed  as  though 
the  applause  that  followed  the  announce 
ment  was  intended  for  Alderson  rather 
than  for  the  victor.  Men  with  whom 
he  had  not  been  on  speaking  terms  for 
months  crowded  around  him  to  shake 
his  hand.  From  being  the  most  un 
popular  man  in  the  club  he  had  sudden 
ly  become  a  hero.  It  was  incomprehen 
sible.  Last  of  all  came  up  Kitty  Crake. 
The  crowd  had  drifted  away,  and  they 
were  alone.  Her  eyes  were  wet  and 
shining,  and  she  held  out  her  hand.  He 
took  it,  trembling  inwardly. 
83 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

"  Well,"  said  she  at  length,  "  the  match 
is  over :  have  you  nothing  to  say  to 
me !" 

"  But— but  I  lost  it,"  faltered  Henry 
Alderson. 

"  Exactly  ;  and  in  so  doing  you  just 
managed  to  save  yourself.  You  have 
evidently  no  idea  how  simply  intolera 
ble  a  champion  at  golf  may  be." 

"Oh,  Kitty—"  he  began;  but  they 
were  already  at  the  club-house. 

After  they  were  married  he  told  her 
the  whole  story. 

"  But  there  is  one  thing  I  never  un 
derstood,"  he  concluded,  thoughtfully. 
"  If  it  really  were  the  enemy  of  mankind, 
he  certainly  acted  very  stupidly  in  not 
getting  my  signature  in  the  good  old 
orthodox  way.  What  had  he  to  show 
for  his  side  of  the  bargain  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  plain  enough,"  answered 
Mrs.  Alderson.  "  So  long  as  pride  con 
tinues  to  be  one  of  the  seven  deadly 
sins — " 

84 


THE    HONG-KONG    MEDAL 

"  Well  ?" 

"Why,  the  devil  is  quite  justified  in 
feeling  cocksure  of  a  medal-winner  at 
golf.  Poor  Mr.  Montague  !" 


THE    OBSESSION    OF    ROBIN 
SON    BROWN 


THE    OBSESSION    OF    ROBIN 
SON    BROWN 


WHEN  the  Marion  County  Golf  Club 
was  first  organized,  upon  the  list  of 
charter  members  appeared  the  name  of 
Robinson  Brown,  of  the  old-established 
firm  of  McTavish  &  Brown,  ship  chand 
lers  and  general  dealers  in  marine  stores 
at  No.  6014  Burling  Slip.  But  it  must 
not  be  rashly  inferred  from  this  circum 
stance  that  Mr.  Brown  was  a  golfer,  or 
that  he  took  any  particular  interest  in 
the  naturalization  of  the  royal  and  an 
cient  game.  On  the  contrary,  being  an 
American  of  the  Americans,  and  well 
into  his  fifth  decade,  Mr.  Brown  had 
long  ceased  to  care  for  athletic  amuse- 
89 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

ments,  either  in  an  active  or  in  a  vica 
rious  capacity,  and  he  even  held  some 
old  -  fashioned  notions  upon  Saturday 
half-holidays  and  the  propriety  of  using 
public  money  for  the  establishment  of 
municipal  playgrounds.  He  rejoiced 
when  croquet  became  obsolete ;  he 
viewed  with  disapproval  the  introduc 
tion  and  overwhelming  popularity  of  ten 
nis;  he  found  himself  in  entire  sympathy 
with  the  attitude  of  his  favorite  evening 
newspaper  towards  college  football,  and 
he  prided  himself  upon  his  inability 
to  distinguish  between  a  base  hit  and 
an  error.  For  exercise  he  depended 
upon  walking  (by  the  doctor's  orders) 
and  the  Swedish  movement  cure  (also 
by  the  doctor's  orders),  and  he  found 
amusement  and  abundant  mental  re 
laxation  in  occasional  attendance  at 
trotting  matches  and  in  his  regular  af 
ter-dinner  rubber  at  seven-point  whist. 
Simple  in  his  tastes  and  habits,  he  de 
sired  nothing  more  of  To-day  than  that 
it  should  follow  in  the  comfortable  groove 
90 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

of  Yesterday,  and,  with  the  disappear 
ance  of  his  waist,  he  had  insensibly  lost 
the  capacity  of  any  emotion  unconnect 
ed  with  cutlets  and  the  state  of  the 
money  market.  Such,  then,  was  Mr. 
Robinson  Brown  in  the  year  of  grace 
eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-five. 

It  may  seem  at  first  sight  that  in  join 
ing  a  golf  club  Mr.  Brown  was  acting 
decidedly  at  variance  with  his  well-con 
sidered  and  often  -  expressed  opinions, 
but  he  had  been  prompted  to  the  step 
by  several  ulterior  considerations.  In  the 
first  place,  he  had  seen  the  game  played 
while  on  a  visit  to  a  country-house  at 
Southampton,  and  he  was  thoroughly 
convinced  that  it  had  only  to  be  tried 
once  to  be  found  forever  wanting.  In 
point  of  hopeless  inanity  it  could  not 
be  improved  upon,  and  Mr.  Brown  rea 
soned  very  acutely  that  its  colossal  im 
becility  could  not  be  better  established 
than  by  public  exploitation  of  its  claims 
to  recognition.  The  statue  had  only  to 
be  set  upon  its  pedestal  for  the  clay  feet 
91 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

to  crumble,  and  Mr.  Brown  confidently 
hoped  that  in  falling  it  might  hit  some 
other  things,  perhaps  the  manager  of  a 
college  football  team,  or  even  a  young 
woman  on  a  bicycle. 

Secondly,  Mr.  Brown  was  heavily  in 
terested  in  the  development  of  the  par 
ticular  suburban  section  which  would  be 
advantageously  opened  up  to  public  in 
spection  by  the  establishment  of  a  well- 
appointed  country  club,  and  if  he  could 
clear  some  thousands  of  dollars  by  the 
sale  of  lots  before  the  boom  in  golf  col 
lapsed,  the  investment  of  a  hundred  or 
so  in  stock  and  dues  would  manifestly 
be  a  good  business  stroke.  And,  finally, 
it  would  make  a  pleasant  break  in  the 
monotonous  round  of  his  daily  constitu 
tional  drive  along  the  Monkton  Road  to 
stop  for  a  few  moments  at  the  club 
house  and  enjoy  the  mild  refreshment 
of  a  "  Sam  Ward  "  upon  its  shady  piaz 
zas.  He  had  always  thought  that  the 
town  club  should  maintain  a  country 
annex  during  the  summer  months,  and 
92 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

the  golfing  madness,  while  it  lasted, 
would  at  least  insure  a  respectable  ar 
ticle  of  Scotch  whiskey.  And  so  the 
Marion  County  Golf  Club  took  to  itself 
a  local  habitation  and  a  name,  and  the 
signature  of  Robinson  Brown  stood  first 
upon  the  roll  of  incorporators. 

It  was  evident  from  the  start  that  the 
new  organization  was  to  be  a  great  suc 
cess,  and,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  it 
was  the  golf  that  made  the  club  so 
popular.  Mr.  Brown  was  forced  to  ac 
knowledge  that  the  interest  in  the  new 
game  was  as  profound  as  it  was  inexpli 
cable,  and  it  was  an  extraordinary  fact 
that  the  middle  -  aged  members  were 
even  more  enthusiastic  than  the  young 
people.  Mr.  Brown,  from  his  corner 
seat  on  the  wide,  cool  piazza,  watched 
the  development  of  the  craze  with  ever- 
increasing  astonishment.  Respectable 
citizens,  hard  -  headed  business  men, 
against  whose  commercial  standing 
there  had  never  been  a  breath  of  sus 
picion,  one  after  another  fell  victims  to 
93 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

the  fascination  of  the  "green,"  and  the 
surrender  once  made  was  invariabjy  ab 
solute.  The  conversation  in  the  smok 
ing  -  room  was  all  of  "  mashies  "  and  of 
"  patent  lofters,"  of  "  cuppy  lies,"  and 
of  phenomenal  "long  puts."  The  state 
of  the  market  was  of  distinctly  minor 
importance  to  these  lunatics  so  long  as 
the  great  questions  of  "stance"  and 
"grip"  remained  unsettled,  and  Mr. 
Brown  found  to  his  disgust  that  the 
popular  bond  issue  and  the  attitude  of 
the  government  towards  Venezuela  were 
as  nothing  compared  to  the  establish 
ment  of  a  new  record  for  the  course. 
He  raged  inwardly  at  the  senile  folly 
of  his  former  friends,  and  openly  made 
sarcastic  comments  upon  the  appear 
ance  of  their  legs,  but  all  to  no  avail. 
The  most  he  could  hope  for  was 
that  the  very  virulence  of  the  disease 
might  effect  a  cure,  that  the  craze 
might  be  as  short-lived  as  it  was  furi 
ous.  But  the  days  slipped  away  into 
weeks,  and  the  end  was  not  yet. 
94 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

Now  it  happened  upon  a  certain 
pleasant  afternoon  that  Mr.  Brown  ap 
peared  at  the  club  somewhat  earlier 
than  was  his  wont.  He  was  indulging 
in  the  rather  unusual  luxury  of  a  holi 
day  from  business,  and,  truth  to  tell,  he 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.  He 
was  tired  of  being  driven  up  and  down 
the  Monkton  Road,  so  he  ordered  the 
coachman  to  turn  in  at  the  club.  There 
were  only  half  a  dozen  of  the  members 
about,  and  Mr.  Brown  saw  to  his  disgust 
that  they  were  all  confirmed  worship 
pers  of  the  goddess  of  Golf.  He  stalked 
gloomily  down  to  the  teeing-ground  to 
watch  the  players  drive  off,  and  make 
sarcastic  comments  as,  one  after  anoth 
er,  the  strong  men  bobbed  and  scuffled 
and  writhed  and  scraped  in  their  futile 
endeavors  to  render  meet  obeisance  to 
this  new  Baal. 

The  last  three  players  had  been  wait 
ing  to  play  a  "  foursome,"  but  the  fourth 
man  had  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance 
and  they  had  decided  to  play  a  three- 
95 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

ball  match.  They  were  Hardinge,  the 
secretary  of  the  club  ;  Mason,  who  was 
an  acknowledged  power  in  the  whole 
sale  -  grocery  world  ;  and  Woodhouse, 
better  known  as  TJie  Fiend,  from  the 
fact  that  he  took  all  his  meals  at  the 
club-house,  and  was  popularly  supposed 
to  sleep  upon  the  course  while  engaged 
in  practice  for  the  monthly  medal.  Now 
Hardinge  and  Mason  had  been  erstwhile 
bosom  friends  with  Robinson  Brown, 
and  it  irritated  him  to  see  them  so  com 
pletely  given  over  to  this  senseless  in 
fatuation.  He  jeered  at  Hardinge  when 
he  "topped  "  his  drive,  and  sarcastically 
suggested  "  the  side  of  a  house  "  to  Ma 
son  after  that  gentleman  had  "  missed 
the  globe"  five  times  running  and  had 
broken  his  favorite  play  -  club.  The 
players  bore  Mr.  Brown's  badinage  with 
ill-concealed  impatience,  but  Woodhouse 
was  winking  expressively,  and  they  re 
mained  silent. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  take  a  hand, 
Brown,"  said  TJie  Fiend,  carelessly,  as  he 
96 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

teed  his  ball  and  struck  off.  "Not  a 
'foursome,'  you  know,  but  just  a  four- 
ball  game  around  the  short  course." 
And  thereupon,  with  an  ingratiating 
smile,  he  actually  forced  a  club  into  Mr. 
Brown's  astonished  hands  just  as  a  drag 
full  of  people  rumbled  along  the  drive 
and  pulled  up  directly  in  front  of  the 
teeing-ground. 

It  was  a  very  embarrassing  position 
for  Mr.  Brown,  this  public  discovery  of 
Saul  also  among  the  prophets,  and  his 
first  impulse  was  to  employ  the  club 
upon  Mr.  Woodhouse's  impertinent  per 
son.  But  another  and  sweeter  form  of 
revenge  instantly  presented  itself — to 
surpass  by  one  brilliant  and  overpower 
ing  stroke  The  Fiend's  own  drive  (which 
was  really  rather  ordinary),  and  then  to 
scornfully  retire  from  the  contest  upon 
the  ground  that  it  was  too  easy  to  be 
interesting.  Not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt 
as  to  his  ability  to  perform  the  feat 
clouded  Mr.  Brown's  mind,  and  it  is 
therefore  not  surprising  that  he  even 
G  97 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

exceeded  his  own  expectations.  The 
ball  went  off  the  club  with  the  most 
perfect  accuracy,  and  actually  fell  dead 
at  the  hole  170  yards  away.  Mr.  Brown's 
revenge  was  ready  to  his  hand,  but  he 
did  not  take  it  ;  he  could  have  crushed 
The  Fiend  with  a  single  word,  but  he 
did  not  say  it.  Silently,  and  yet  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  knows  when  he 
has  done  a  good  thing,  Mr.  Brown  pro 
ceeded  to  the  putting-green  and  waited 
majestically  for  the  other  players  to 
come  up.  It  is  hardly  worth  while 
dwelling  upon  this  remarkable  incon 
sistency  on  Mr.  Brown's  part.  No  ex 
planation  would  be  satisfactory  to  the 
non-golfing  mind,  arid  to  that  of  the 
golfer  none  is  needed. 

As  Mr.  Brown's  ball  rested  on  the 
very  lip  of  the  cup  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  foozle  the  putt,  and  the  hole 
was  his  in  two — "  a  record,  by  Jove  !"  as 
Hardinge  exultantly  proclaimed.  Mr. 
Brown  felt  impelled  to  tell  exactly  how 
he  did  it,  and  he  was  pleased  with  the 
98 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

• 

respectful  attention  accorded  to  his  re 
marks.  "And  now  whose  honor  is  it?" 
concluded  Mr.  Brown,  cheerfully.  "  You 
play  straight  over  that  flag,  I  believe. 
Hey  there,  you  boy  !  Fore  !" 

Mason  managed  to  draw  The  Fiend 
to  one  side.  "  What  on  earth  !"  he  be 
gan — 

"  Sh  !"  interrupted  The  Fiend,  warn- 
ingly.  "  It  simply  means  that  I  haven't 
forgotten  what  that  man  Brown  once 
said  about  my  legs." 

Mr.  Brown  finished  the  round  in  very 
fair  figures  for  a  beginner,  and,  although 
it  was  growing  late,  persuaded  Wood- 
house  into  taking  a  turn  around  the  full 
eighteen  holes.  It  was  long  past  the 
Brown  dinner-hour  when  they  had  fin 
ished,  but  the  new  convert  did  not  ap 
pear  to  attach  any  importance  to  that 
fact.  He  insisted  upon  driving  The 
Fiend  home,  and  before  they  separated 
an  agreement  had  been  reached  for  a 
meeting  at  the  club  the  next  afternoon. 

"  And   be  sure  you  hunt  me  up  that 

99 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

address — where  I  can  get  a  red  coat, 
you  know,"  bawled  Mr.  Brown,  standing 
up  on  the  back  seat  of  the  rapidly  re 
ceding  carriage.  The  Fiend  laughed  as 
he  entered  the  house,  and  the  sound 
was  not  a  pleasant  one. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  Mr.  Brown 
bought  no  less  than  thirty-seven  drivers 
before  finding  one  whose  length  and 
"  lie "  exactly  suited  him,  and  as  he 
broke  that  one  on  the  very  first  round 
he  began  to  have  a  realizing  sense  of 
the  exacting  nature  of  the  fascination 
to  which  he  had  yielded  himself.  Of 
course  the  first  ambition  of  every  true 
golfer  is  to  possess  an  absolutely  perfect 
set  of  clubs,  and  Mr.  Brown  felt  very 
much  annoyed  at  his  misfortune.  How 
ever,  his  collection  of  irons  was  per 
haps  unequalled  in  the  country.  His 
driving -cleek  was  a  noble  instrument, 
purchased  at  about  its  weight  in  gold 
from  a  celebrated  professional  player 
whose  identity  may  be  thinly  disguised, 
under  his  familiar  sobriquet  of  "  Willie." 

100 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

It  was  really  a  good  cleek,  and  Mr. 
Brown  expected  to  do  wonders  with  it  at 
the  next  monthly  handicap.  For  prac 
tice  work  he  bought  several  others  ex 
actly  like  it  in  appearance,  and  unfor 
tunately  got  the  lot  all  mixed  up 
through  the  stupidity  of  a  caddie.  This 
was  even  more  disheartening  than  the 
loss  of  his  driver,  and,  although  the 
professional  was  called  in  and  commis 
sioned  to  pick  out  the  masterpiece,  Mr. 
Brown  never  felt  quite  sure  that  the 
lost  treasure  had  been  recovered.  As 
suredly  the  cleek  did  not  play  the  same 
as  when  "  Willie  "  had  used  it  in  estab 
lishing  a  new  record  for  the  course,  and 
Mr.  Brown  felt  vaguely  that  he  had 
been  swindled.  There  could  be  no 
doubt,  though,  about  his  wooden  putter, 
a  monstrosity  that  bore  the  name  of 
"  Philp,"  and  which  was  guaranteed  to 
have  once  belonged  to  Allan  Robertson 
himself.  It  was  a  glorious  weapon,  and 
as  Mr.  Brown  invariably  used  an  iron 
putter  he  never  lost  his  confidence  in 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

the   playing   qualities   of   his  treasured 
antique. 

All  this,  of  course,  cost  more  or  less 
money,  and  the  size  of  the  club-maker's 
bill  rather  startled  Mr.  Brown  when  it 
was  presented  at  the  end  of  the  month. 
"  Though,  after  all,"  he  thought  to  him 
self,  "  I  should  probably  have  spent  as 
much  in  '  Sam  Wards '  and  been  none 
the  better  for  them."  Of  course  the 
unhappy  man  had  entirely  ignored  the 
fact  that  his  consumption  of  "  Scotch 
and  soda "  was  increasing  in  inverse 
ratio  to  his  abstinence  from  other  forms 
of  liquid  refreshment ;  but  the  delusion 
is  not  an  uncommon  one  among  the 
fraternity  of  golfers,  and  nothing  is  so 
misleading  as  statistics,  with  the  pos 
sible  exception  of  "  Scotch  and  soda " 
itself. 

One  afternoon,  about  ten  days  after 
Mr.  Brown's  conversion,  Mrs.  Brown  was 
surprised  to  receive  an  early  morn 
ing  call  from  Mr.  McTavish,  the  senior 

IO2 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

partner  in  the  firm.  On  descending  to 
the  drawing-room  she  found  that  gen 
tleman  in  a  state  of  unusual  excitement, 
and  it  was 'with  some  difficulty  that  she 
finally  gathered  that  he  had  come  to 
inquire  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Mr. 
Brown.  On  her  informing  him  that 
Mr.  Brown  had  taken  a  day  off,  and  was 
spending  it  upon  the  golf  course,  Mr. 
McTavish  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief, 
but  it  was  evident  that  he  was  both 
surprised  and  annoyed.  It  appeared 
that  Mr.  Brown  had  given  no  intima 
tion  of  his  intended  absence,  and  as  he 
held  the  combination  of  the  safe  it  had 
been  impossible  to  transact  any  business 
at  the  office.  In  this  emergency  Mr. 
McTavish  had  taken  the  first  train  out 
to  Lauriston  to  find  out  what  was  the 
matter.  "  And  I  was  prepared,  madam, 
for  the  worst,"  he  concluded,  gravely. 

"  Apoplexy,  perhaps,"  hazarded  Mrs. 
Brown,  smilingly. 

"  Or  Canada,"  retorted  Mr.  McTavish. 

Well,  of  course,  it  was  unjustifiable, 
103 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

this  insinuation  on  the  part  of  the  sen 
ior  partner,  but  it  must  be  remembered 
that  Mr.  McTavish  was  a  very  dignified 
old  gentleman,  with  a  tendency  to  sup 
pressed  gout,  and  Mr.  Brown's  derelic 
tion  had  put  him  to  a  great  deal  of 
bodily  inconvenience  and  mental  dis 
comfort.  It  was  annoying  to  find  that 
all  this  pother  had  been  caused  by  a 
ridiculous  game  of  golf,  and  Mr.  Mc 
Tavish  considered  that  he  did  well  to 
be  angry.  Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Brown  re 
sented  the  imputation,  and  some  warm 
words  passed. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  cared,"  said  Mr. 
McTavish,  bitterly,  "if  Brown  had 
broken  his  leg  or  had  been  killed  on  the 
railroad  —  that  would  have  been  some 
excuse." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !"  put  in  Mrs.  Brown. 

"  But  to  find  him  playing  golf  with 
the  market  liable  to  go  to  pieces  at  any 
moment — I  don't  know  what  I  can  say 
to  tliat,  I  really  don't."  And  Mr.  Mc 
Tavish  stopped  short,  in  the  conscious- 
104 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

ness  that  the  English  language  was  en 
tirely  unequal  to  the  due  expression  of 
his  feelings. 

"  Perhaps  you've  said  quite  enough 
already,"  remarked  Mrs.  Brown,  icily  ; 
"but  I  don't  know  what  you  are  to  do 
about  it  unless  you  go  in  for  golf  your 
self." 

"  I  go  in  for  golf !"  gasped  Mr.  Mc- 
Tavish. 

"  Why  not  ?  It  would  help  you  to  un 
derstand  Mr.  Brown's  position  and  be 
an  excellent  thing  for  your  health.  Mr. 
Brown  was  never  better  than  since  he 
took  to  golf.  It  keeps  him  in  the  open 
air,  he  has  a  splendid  appetite,  an  ex 
cellent  temper,  and  he  hardly  ever 
drinks  a  'Sam  Ward  '  nowadays,  a  point 
which  some  other  people  might  do  well 
to  bear  in  mind  at  this  hour  in  the 
morning." 

And   then   Mrs.  Brown   gathered   up 

her  skirts  and  sailed  majestically  out  of 

the  room,  leaving  Mr.  McTavish  to  don 

the  conversational   cap   at   his   leisure. 

105 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

Whereupon  the  senior  partner  hurried 
back  to  town  and  immediately  sent  for 
his  lawyer  and  a  safe  expert. 

When  Brown  came  home  that  night, 
fresh  from  a  glorious  victory  over  The 
Fiend,  Mrs.  Brown  told  him  of  her  vis 
itor  and  his  extraordinary  behavior. 
Mr.  Brown  only  smiled  at  the  preju 
dices  and  narrow  -  mindedness  of  the 
non-golfing  class,  and  went  out  on  the 
lawn  to  practise  up  his  "  approaching." 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that 
as  time  went  on  Mrs.  Brown  was  not 
wholly  satisfied  with  Mr.  Brown's  at 
titude  towards  all  things  outside  of  golf. 
She  smiled  indulgently  at  his  fancy  of 
taking  a  cleek  to  church  in  lieu  of  a 
walking-stick,  but  she  frowned  when  she 
discovered  that  he  had  laid  out  a  course 
of  short  holes  among  the  flower-beds, 
and  she  was  annoyed  to  see  that  the 
front  lawn  looked  as  though  a  "  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverley  "  had  been  performed 
upon  it  by  a  select  company  of  patent 
harrows  and  steam-ditchers.  It  was  also 
1 06 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

very  provoking,  upon  the  occasion  of  a 
grand  dinner  -  party,  that  Mr.  Brown 
should  have  brought  up  from  the  city  a 
dozen  golf  balls  instead  of  the  French 
artichokes  that  he  had  been  instructed 
to  procure.  The  cook  had  done  his 
best,  but  even  a  marvellous  sauce  could 
not  make  them  go  down  with  the  guests, 
and  the  chef  had  given  warning  the 
very  next  day.  It  was  too  bad,  for  he 
had  been  a  veritable  treasure,  a  real 
pearl  among  cooks. 

Mrs.  Brown  finally  felt  impelled  to 
have  a  serious  conversation  with  her 
husband.  She  pointed  out  to  him  the 
fact  that  he  had  not  been  near  the  office 
for  a  month,  and  although  Mr.  McTav- 
ish  had  offered  no  remonstrance  either 
verbally  or  otherwise,  his  very  silence 
was  portentous.  As  Mr.  Brown's  in 
come  was  derived  solely  from  his  inter 
est  in  the  business,  he  could  not  afford 
to  entirely  ignore  his  responsibilities, 
and,  after  all,  golf  was  simply  an  amuse 
ment  and  not  the  real  business  of  life. 
107 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

Mr.  Brown  listened  attentively  to  what 
Mrs.  Brown  had  to  say,  and  acknowl 
edged  frankly  that  he  had  been  doing 
wrong.  He  would  go  to  town,  effect  a 
reconciliation  with  Mr.  McTavish,  and 
take  up  his  duties  with  new  zeal  and 
fresh  determination.  Yes,  he  certainly 
would  do  that — it  was  the  only  proper 
course. 

"  But  when  will  you  go  ?"  urged  Mrs. 
Brown. 

"Just  as  soon  as  the  monthly  handi 
cap  is  over,"  answered  Mr.  Brown,  firm- 

iy. 

Mrs.  Brown  said  no  more,  but  she 
turned  away  with  a  sigh,  and  with  an 
uncomfortable  foreboding  of  what  the 
future  might  bring  forth. 

Two  or  three  days  after  this  conver 
sation  it  happened  to  be  wet,  and  Mrs. 
Brown  had  occasion  to  go  to  town.  On 
returning  home  at  evening  she  was  sur 
prised  to  see  the  house  brilliantly  light 
ed  from  top  to  bottom,  and  on  entering 
she  was  still  further  amazed  at  the  sight 

108 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

that  presented  itself.  All  the  furniture 
from  the  hall  and  the  rooms  opening 
into  it  had  been  removed  from  its  prop 
er  place  and  piled  up  here  and  there  in 
fantastic  heaps.  There  were  dents  and 
scratches  on  the  polished  mahogany, 
and  Mrs.  Brown's  face  grew  rigid  as  she 
saw  two  or  three  "stars"  in  the  big 
mirror  over  the  library  mantel -piece. 
There  was  a  heap  of  wet  sand  on  the 
costly  Bokhara  rug  at  the  far  end  of 
the  hall,  and,  even  as  she  gazed,  unable 
to  believe  her  own  eyes,  Mr.  Brown  ap 
peared  from  the  butler's  pantry,  attired 
in  full  golfing  costume  and  attended  by 
Robinson  Brown,  jr.,  with  his  bag  of 
clubs.  Mr.  Brown  carefully  teed  his 
ball,  and,  with  a  loud  shout  of  "  fore," 
drove  it  the  whole  length  of  the  hall 
and  drawing-room,  to  the  utter  destruc 
tion  of  a  unique  Sevres  vase  that  was  as 
the  apple  of  Mrs.  Brown's  eye.  Little 
Robinson  clapped  his  hands,  and  Robin 
son,  sr.,  proudly  announced  that  his 
score  was  only  thirty-six  from  the  first 
109 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

tee  in  the  third -story  bath-room,  not 
at  all  bad  considering  that  he  had  been 
bunkered  in  the  china-closet. 

"The  china-closet!"  repeated  Mrs. 
Brown,  mechanically. 

"  Now  then,  Robinson,"  said  Mr. 
Brown,  gleefully,  "  get  me  another  cut- 
glass  tumbler,  so  that  I  can  hole  out. 
No,  never  mind,  this  inkstand  will  do." 

Mrs.  Brown,  unable  to  speak  or  move, 
sank  helplessly  upon  a  fauteuil  which 
had  not  been  needed  for  bunker-build 
ing,  and  watched  Mr.  Brown  with  fas 
cinated  eyes  as  he  proceeded  to  execute 
an  approach  shot  over  a  Louis  Seize 
mirror  laid  face  upward  on  the  floor  in 
lieu  of  a  water  hazard.  Unfortunately 
the  ball  fell  short  and  rolled  directly  on 
the  mirror,  forcing  Mr.  Brown  to  call 
for  his  "  president."  Mrs.  Brown  groaned 
as  the  niblick  crashed  into  the  glass,  but 
Mr.  Brown  exulted  vociferously,  for  the 
ball  plumped  squarely  into  the  inkstand, 
sending  a  shower  of  stygian  drops  over 
the  lace  curtains. 

no 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

"  Forty  for  the  nine  holes,"  announced 
Mr.  Brown  as  he  restored  the  club  to 
the  bag  and  turned  to  find  himself  in 
what  can  only  be  described  as  the 
"  PRESENCE  "  of  Mrs.  Robinson  Brown. 

Now  just  what  happened  during  the 
subsequent  interview  does  not  concern 
us,  but  the  fact  remains  that  early  the 
next  morning  Mr.  Brown  started  for  his 
office  in  the  city.  On  the  train  he  took 
up  a  daily  paper,  and  was  unpleasantly 
surprised  to  see  among  the  business  an 
nouncements  a  notice  of  the  forthcom 
ing  dissolution  of  the  partnership  now 
existing  under  the  firm  name  of  Mc- 
Tavish  &  Brown,  ship  -  chandlers  and 
general  dealers  in  marine  stores  at  No. 
6014  Burling  Slip.  Mr.  Brown  felt  in 
his  heart  of  hearts  that  Mr.  McTavish 
was  amply  justified  in  his  action,  but  he 
went  on  in  the  faint  hope  of  inducing 
him  to  reconsider  it.  But  the  interview 
was  in  vain.  The  senior  partner  treated 
Mr.  Brown  with  dignity  and  had  no  re 
proaches  to  make.  But  his  resolution 
in 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

was   inflexible  —  the   business   must   be 
wound  up. 

Mr.  Brown  returned  home  and  talked 
over  the  situation  with  Mrs.  Brown.  It 
would,  of  course,  take  some  weeks  to  ad 
just  all  the  interests  of  the  firm,  and  in 
the  meantime  they  would  have  little  or 
no  income  for  current  expenses.  Mrs. 
Brown  suggested  sending  for  her  Uncle 
Henry,  who  could  advise  and  perhaps 
assist  them  in  their  embarrassing  emer 
gency.  A  wire  was  accordingly  de 
spatched  to  Mrs.  Brown's  Uncle  Henry, 
and  that  gentleman  was  good  enough  to 
respond  to  the  appeal  by  taking  the  first 
train  out  to  Lauriston.  As  he  stepped 
out  of  the  carriage  at  the  Brown  man 
sion  a  small,  white,  round,  and  excessive 
ly  hard  object  struck  him  squarely  on 
the  leg,  causing  him  several  moments 
of  exquisite  anguish.  Mr.  Brown,  who 
had  been  experimenting  behind  the 
ice-house  with  a  new  driver,  was  pro 
fuse  in  his  apologies,  but  Mrs.  Brown's 
Uncle  Henry  refused  to  enter  the 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

house  and  took  the  first  train  back  to 
town. 

It  was  some  three  days  before  Mrs. 
Brown  could  bring  herself  to  speak 
calmly  to  Mr.  Brown,  but  she  could  not 
forget  that  she  had  once  loved  him  and 
was  still  his  wife.  She  forgave  him 
fully  and  freely,  but  it  was  hard  to  feel 
that  Mr.  Brown's  inconsiderate  act  had 
not  only  deprived  them  of  the  hope  of 
immediate  assistance,  but  would  in  all 
probability  have  a  serious  effect  upon 
the  ultimate  disposition  of  the  old  gen 
tleman's  property. 

"  It  all  will  go  to  the  Asylum  for  Aged 
Gold-beaters,"  said  Mrs.  Brown,  sadly, 
and  Robinson  Brown  ground  his  teeth 
in  silence. 

Still,  Mrs.  Brown  did  not  wholly  de 
spair  of  the  future,  for  Mr.  Brown  had 
now  signed  a  solemn  pledge  of  total  ab 
stinence  from  golf.  There  was  yet  time 
for  him  to  retrieve  his  past  errors,  and 
Mrs.  Brown  helped  him  like  the  true 
woman  that  she  was.  She  gave  up 
H  113 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

nearly  all  of  her  time  to  playing  parlor 
croquet  and  Halma  with  Mr.  Brown, 
and,  although  these  simple  amusements 
were  but  melancholy  substitutes  for  the 
royal  game,  yet  they  afforded  some  tem 
porary  relief  from  the  awful  craving 
that  at  times  nearly  overpowered  him. 
And  as  the  days  went  by  Mrs.  Brown 
felt  almost  hopeful  again.  It  was  now 
three  weeks  since  Mr.  Brown  had 
touched  a  golf -club,  and  the  legal  for 
malities  of  winding  up  the  business 
were  fast  drawing  to  completion.  In 
another  fortnight  Mr.  Brown  would 
have  his  money  at  his  disposal  and  be 
ready  for  a  fresh  start  in  life.  They 
would  move  to  some  Western  city 
where  there  was  no  club  and  where 
public  golf  was  not  allowed.  Surely 
there  must  be  some  such  haven  of  ref 
uge,  and  once  more  removed  from  the 
possibility  of  temptation,  all  would  be 
well  again.  Mrs.  Brown's  face  grew 
hopeful  and  tender  as  the  vision  rose  be 
fore  her.  Ah!  how  happy  they  would  be! 
114 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

It  was  drawing  on  to  luncheon-time, 
and  Mrs.  Brown,  dismissing  her  day 
dream  with  a  half -smile  at  her  girlish 
romanticism,  stepped  out  into  the  hall 
on  her  way  to  the  dining-room.  As  she 
passed  the  closet  where  Mr.  Brown's  clubs 
and  golfing  paraphernalia  were  stored  she 
saw  with  a  sickening  sense  of  fear  that 
the  lock  had  been  forced  and  that  the 
closet  was  empty.  Hardly  breathing, 
she  flew  out  upon  the  lawn.  Gracious 
heavens  !  Her  worst  fears  were  indeed 
realized,  for  there  stood  Mr.  Brown, 
wearing  his  awful  golf  face  and  sur 
rounded  by  his  entire  collection  of 
eighty-seven  clubs  and  a  dozen  careful 
ly  teed  balls.  And  as  she  stood  with 
aching  heart  and  tear  -  dimmed  eyes, 
she  saw  by  his  side  Robinson,  jr.,  the 
eldest  boy  and  the  pride  and  joy  of  the 
Brown  family.  She  heard  Mr.  Brown 
speaking  to  him  in  a  coaxing  tone,  as  in 
a  dream  she  saw  the  besotted,  cunning 
smile  with  which  he  sought  to  force 
a  club  into  the  innocent  child's  hand. 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

The  wretched  man  placed  a  ball  in  front 
of  the  boy  and  showed  him  how  to  grip 
the  club.  "  And  now  remember,"  said 
Mr.  Brown,  "  slow  back  !  Don't  press  ! 
Keep  your  eye  on  the  ba'  !" 

Mrs.  Brown  never  clearly  remembered 
just  how  she  managed  to  do  it,  but  in 
the  next  instant  she  had  dashed  in  be 
tween  father  and  son,  snatched  the  ac 
cursed  thing  from  the  child's  hand  and 
hurled  it  far  out  upon  the  lawn,  farther 
indeed  than  Mr.  Brown  had  ever  been 
able  to  drive  a  ball. 

Husband  and  wife  faced  each  other. 

"  Mr.  Brown,"  said  Mrs.  Brown,  "  for 
myself  I  have  nothing  to  say.  But 
there  is  no  law,  human  or  divine,  which 
can  compel  me  to  stand  by  and  see  my 
innocent  child  deliberately  started  upon 
the  dreadful  road  that  can  end  only  in 
'  Walkinshaw's  Grave.'  There  shall  be 
no  open  scandal,  but  I  shall  take  Rob 
inson,  jr.,  and  the  other  children  and  go 
to  my  Uncle  Henry's  by  the  four  train." 

116 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

Robinson  Brown  was  sober  enough 
now.  He  turned  perfectly  white,  but 
his  voice  was  clear  and  firm. 

"  You  are  quite  sure,  Mary,  that  you 
are  justified  in  taking  this  step  ?" 

"  Yes,  quite  sure." 

"  And  there  is  nothing,  absolutely 
nothing,  that  I  can  do  or  say  to  alter 
your  determination  ?" 

He  spoke  quietly,  but  there  was  that 
note  of  stress  in  his  voice  that  betrayed 
the  strong  man's  agony. 

"  Absolutely  nothing." 

"Very  well,"  said  Robinson  Brown. 
"While  you  are  packing,  I  think  I'll  go 
and  work  up  my  putting  a  bit." 

For  the  sequel  to  this  remarkable 
story  I  am  indebted  to  The  Fiend,  who 
told  it  the  other  night  to  a  select  com 
pany  of  the  "  Old  Guard  "  in  the  smok 
ing-room  of  the  club. 

"  As  you  all  know,"  he  began,  "  it  was 
useless  to  try  and  straighten  out  the 
tangle,  for  after  Mrs.  Brown's  departure 
117 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

poor  Brown,  relieved  of  all  restraint, 
entered  upon  a  perfect  orgy  of  golf,  and 
for  three  weeks  the  niblick  was  hardly 
ever  out  of  his  hand.  Then  he  seemed 
to  brace  up  for  a  time,  but  the  tone  of 
his  system  had  been  so  lowered  by  his 
long-continued  dissipation  that  the  refor 
mation  was  only  temporary,  and  he  soon 
fell  back  into  his  old  courses — or,  shall  I 
say,  links.  It  was  pitiable,  and  no  one 
realized  his  condition  more  acutely  than 
he  did  himself;  but  what  was  there  to 
be  done?  Poor  Brown  was  absolutely 
unable  to  pass  a  golf  club  without  drop 
ping  in  for  a  round  or  so,  and  at  last  he 
lost  all  sense  of  decency  and  openly  fre 
quented  public  golf  courses.  The  Green 
Committee  felt  very  sorry  for  him,  and 
as  he  had  no  regular  home  he  was  tac 
itly  allowed  to  take  up  his  quarters  in 
the  Great  Sahara  bunker,  just  this  side 
of  the  eleventh  hole.  He  had  been  ac 
customed  to  spend  most  of  his  time 
there  anyhow,  and  I  suppose  that  it 
seemed  familiar  and  homelike  to  him. 

118 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

How  he  managed  to  live  I  don't 
know. 

"  Well,  one  day  Brown  was  in  the 
bunker,  as  usual,  working  away  with  his 
niblick.  He  had  just  missed  the  ball 
for  the  seventeenth  consecutive  time 
and  was  about  to  say  as  much,*  when 
the  words  suddenly  died  away  upon  his 
tongue;  a  new  and  peculiar  sensation  per 
vaded  his  entire  being;  he  stood  stock- 
still,  astonished  and  almost  terrified.  Lit 
tle  by  little  the  dark  clouds  were  rolling 
back  from  before  his  tortured  eyes,  the 
crushing  weight  was  being  lifted  from 
his  aching  brain,  a  heavenly  calm  was 
stealing  gently  over  his  agonizing  soul, 
his  tired  muscles  were  relaxing  into 
peaceful  rest,  and  with  a  great  gulp  of 
unspeakable  relief  Robinson  Brown  re 
alized  that  he  was  a  free  man,  saved  as 
by  fire  and  at  the  eleventh  hole. 

"  He  bent  down  and  picked  off  the 
burrs  from  his  stockings,  his  heart  al- 

*  Golfing  euphemism. 
119 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

most  bursting  with  its  mingled  emo 
tions  of  thankfulness  and  praise.  Then, 
straightening  up,  he  looked  with  new 
eyes  upon  his  surroundings.  That  aw 
ful  Great  Sahara  bunker  !  What  a  hor 
rid  place  it  was!  How  could  he  have 
possibly  endured  its  dismal  presence 
throughout  all  these  weary  weeks  and 
months  ?  And  that  wretched  ball ! 
What  a  loathsome -looking  object!  all 
hacked  and  scarred  and  paintless.  Well,  if 
he  never  got  it  out,  why  should  he  care  ? 
He  didn't  care !  Ah,  the  intoxicating 
ecstasy  of  that  bare  thought — HE  DIDN'T 
CARE  !  With  a  sudden  movement  of  his 
heavy  heel  he  ground  the  ball  deep  into 
the  soft  sand,  and  turned  his  back  for 
ever  upon  the  Great  Sahara  bunker. 

"Clothed  and  in  his  right  mind,  Rob 
inson  Brown  quickly  made  up  his  mind 
as  to  what  he  should  do.  It  was  a  hard 
step  to  take,  but  he  had  sinned  and  he 
must  take  the  consequences  like  a 
man.  Reparation,  atonement !  at  least 
he  could  make  acknowledgment  of  his 

120 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

error.  Forgiveness  !  but  forgiveness  is 
divine. 

"  Mrs.  Brown's  Uncle  Henry  lived  at 
Rhinebeck,  and  he  could  just  make  the 
connection  with  the  Saratoga  Express. 
As  fast  as  steam  could  carry  him  he  was 
whirled  up  the  river  and,  arrived  at  his 
destination,  took  a  hack  out  to  Uncle 
Henry's  place.  He  hardly  dared  to 
think  even  for  a  moment  of  what  was 
coming,  of  what  might  come.  Mrs. 
Brown,  Mrs.  Brown's  Uncle  Henry, 
Horace  McTavish  —  and  he  who  had 
been  a  golfer  !  For  the  moment  his 
heart  stood  still,  he  was  about  to  order 
the  driver  to  pull  up ;  but  he  stayed 
his  hand  and  the  hack  rolled  on. 

"On  reaching  the  gate,  Brown  dis 
missed  the  vehicle,  intending  to  steal 
quietly  up  to  the  house  by  making  a 
short-cut  across  the  south  lawn.  The 
grounds  were  surrounded  by  a  high 
evergreen  hedge,  and  as  he  approached 
it  he  heard  voices.  His  heart  leaped 
as  he  recognized  Mrs.  Brown's  well- 

121 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

remembered  tones,  and  Robinson  jr.'s 
boyish  treble.  Surely,  too,  that  was 
Uncle  Henry's  deep  bass,  and,  most  re 
markable  of  all,  he  could  distinguish  the 
unmistakable  Doric  accents  of  his  old 
partner,  Horace  McTavish.  There  was 
a  moment's  silence,  and  then  followed  an 
extraordinary  and  confused  medley  of 
shrieks,  laughter,  and  muttered  objur 
gations.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Almost 
suffocating  under  stress  of  so  many 
and  complex  emotions,  Robinson  Brown 
noiselessly  stepped  up  to  the  hedge  and 
looked  over. 

"  Mrs.  Robinson  Brown,  Uncle  Henry, 
Mr.  Horace  McTavish,  and  Robinson 
Brown,  jr.,  were  playing  a  'foursome'  at 
golf,  and  Mrs.  Broivrfs  Uncle  Henry  had 
just  laid  Mr.  Me  Tavish  a  stymie. 

"  Well,  they  heard  the  sound  of  the 
fall,  Brown  being  a  heavy  man,  and  af 
ter  some  trouble  they  managed  to  get 
him  into  the  house  and  sent  for  the 
resident  professional.  The  latter  looked 
grave  at  first,  but  after  a  short,  careful 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

examination  of  all  the  symptoms  he 
was  enabled  to  assure  Mrs.  Brown  that 
the  case  was  by  no  means  hopeless. 
Hard  work  and  business  distractions 
would  be  the  best  remedial  agencies, 
and  of  course  golf  in  every  form  must 
be  strictly  tabooed.  Uncle  Henry  and 
McTavish  were  all  kindness  and  sympa 
thy,  and  the  latter  immediately  had  new 
partnership  papers  drawn  up  and  ex 
ecuted.  Uncle  Henry  made  his  will  in 
Robinson  Brown's  own  presence,  and 
the  satisfactory  nature  of  its  provisions 
went  far  towards  restoring  the  invalid 
to  his  wonted  spirits.  As  soon  as  the 
Browns  could  get  moved  back  into 
their  old  home,  Mr.  Brown  resumed  his 
daily  trips  to  his  office  in  the  city,  and 
from  that  on  his  improvement  was 
rapid.  Of  course  Mrs.  Brown's  care 
and  devotion  were  unceasing.  Nothing 
that  could  remind  Mr.  Brown  in  any 
way  of  golf  was  allowed  about  the  house, 
and  Mrs.  Brown  even  went  so  far  as  to 
have  a  red  coat,  belonging  to  Robinson, 
123 


THE    OBSESSION    OF 

jr.,  packed  away  in  a  tin  box  and  care 
fully  buried  at  the  end  of  the  vegetable 
garden,  where  Mr.  Brown  never  went  by 
any  possibility.  With  all  that  it  was  a 
long,  hard  struggle,  and  at  times  Mrs. 
Brown  felt  almost  discouraged..  For 
months  Mr.  Brown  was  obliged  to  drive 
to  the  railway  station  by  a  roundabout 
and  inconvenient  route  in  order  to  avoid 
passing  by  the  golf  club -grounds,  and 
he  fainted  dead  away  on  the  train  one 
day  when  a  friend,  carrying  a  newly 
purchased  cleek,  happened  to  enter  the 
car  and  thoughtlessly  took  a  seat  beside 
him.  But  the  day  of  deliverance  was  at 
hand. 

"  For  a  week  Mr.  Brown  had  secluded 
himself  every  evening  in  his  library,  and 
Mrs.  Brown  was  beginning  to  feel  a 
trifle  anxious.  All  her  efforts  to  pene 
trate  the  mystery  were  in  vain.  Mr. 
Brown  was  preoccupied,  uncommunica 
tive,  and  certainly  up  to  something. 
Yet  he  seemed  to  be  cheerful,  even 
hopeful,  and  there  was  a  new  note  of 
124 


ROBINSON    BROWN 

tenderness  in  his  voice  when  he  did 
speak ;  it  was  all  very  perplexing  to 
Mrs.  Brown." 

"  It  was  Friday  evening  and  Mrs. 
Brown's  birthday.  Mr.  Brown  rose 
from  the  dinner -table,  but  instead  of 
proceeding  alone  to  the  library,  in  ac 
cordance  with  his  usual  custom,  he  si 
lently  intimated  to  his  wife  that  she 
should  bear  him  company.  Pale  and 
trembling,  Mrs.  Brown  obeyed.  Robin 
son  Brown  carefully  locked  the  door, 
and  then  taking  an  odd-looking  object 
from  a  secret  closet,  he  presented  it  to 
Mrs.  Brown.  She  started  back  affright- 
£d  ;  what  was  this  monstrous  implement, 
with  its  glittering,  hammer-like  head  and 
strange,  double-handed  grip  ? 

"  *  The  Robinson  Brown  patent  pen 
dulum  and  self-compensating  putting- 
cleek,'  said  Mr.  Brown,  proudly,  '  and  I 
invented  it  myself.'  " 

Finally,  the  Man-in-t he-Corner  broke 
the  silence  : 

125 


THE    OBSESSION    OF    R.    BROWN 

"Well,  and  what  then?" 

"  I  do  not  think,"  answered  The  Fiend, 
gravely,  "that  any  words  of  mine  could 
fitly  describe  the  scene  that  followed. 
There  are  some  things,  sir,  that  should 
be  sacred  even  to  a  golfer." 

The  Man  -  in  -  tJie  -  Corner  fell  back 
abashed  ;  The  Fiend  took  a  sip  of  "  S.  and 
S.,"  and  then  went  on  :  "  Ah  !  but  it  is 
a  beautiful  sight  to  see  Robinson  Brown 
on  the  links,  surrounded  by  his  re-united 
family,  and  restored  to  comfort,  happi 
ness,  golf,  and  his  own  self-respect.  He 
has  never  succeeded  in  getting  round 
under  120,  even  with  the  aid  of  the  pat 
ent  putter,  but  the  sum  of  earthly  fe^ 
licity  is  not  necessarily  made  up  of  the 
material  figures  of  a  score-card." 

"  But  I  don't  see  yet — "  began  the 
Man  -  in  -  the-  Corner. 

"  Simple  enough,"  interrupted  The 
Fiend.  "  Robinson  Brown  had  tempo 
rarily  overgolfed  himself." 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 


To  speak  in  the  same  breath  of  Miss 
Louie  Trevor  and  of  a  hazard  at  golf 
would  seem  to  be  a  co-ordination  of  two 
very  opposite  ideas,  for  Miss  Trevor  was 
in  all  respects  a  very  charming  young 
woman,  while  there  is  nothing  in  the 
range  of  vituperation  that  may  not  be 
legitimately  applied  to  a  hazard,  be  it 
cuppy  lie,  casual  water,  or  diabolical 
sand-bunker.  And  yet  there  was  a  fig 
urative  sense  under  which  Miss  Trevor 
might  properly  have  been  classed  among 
the  difficulties  of  the  course.  It  is  bad 
enough  to  play  before  a  "  gallery  "  at 
any  time,  but  when  that  critical  assem 
blage  numbers  within  itself  the  one  per- 
i  129 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

son  in  the  world  whose  good  opinion  is 
worth  having,  and  whose  approving 
smile  far  outweighs  the  value  of  any 
trumpery  medal,  why,  then  the  strain 
may  become  superhuman  ;  at  any  rate, 
Bob  Challis  used  to  find  it  so  ;  and  he 
was  not  the  kind  of  person  to  be  lightly 
moved  by  extraneous  influences,  seeing 
that  he  weighed  one  hundred  and  sev 
enty  pounds  and  was  blessed  with  a  per 
fect  nervous  system.  It  was  true,  again, 
that  Bob  had  been  in  love  with  Louie 
Trevor  going  on  now  four  years,  and 
was  very  uncertain  as  to  his  ultimate 
chances  of  success  ;  but  green  commit 
tees  are  not  accustomed  to  take  difficul 
ties  of  this  nature  into  account,  and  the 
title  of  this  veracious  narrative  can 
therefore  only  be  justified  by  the  pre 
sentment  of  the  facts  in  the  case.  Now, 
these  details  are  set  down  succinctly  in 
the  minutes  of  the  recording  secretary 
of  the  club,  but  that  gentleman  being 
of  a  totally  unimaginative  turn  of  mind 
the  bare  recital  of  what  occurred  by  no 
130 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

means  tells  the  story  of  how  Miss  Tre 
vor  became  for  the  nonce  an  official 
hazard  of  the  Marion  County  golf 
course.  But  there  was  a  story  there,  as 
the  sympathizing  lookers-on  knew  very 
well,  and  since  it  has  already  been  told 
time  and  again  over  the  tea-cups  on  the 
west  piazza,  there  can  be  no  objection 
to  setting  it  down  in  orderly  fashion  for 
the  edification  of  all  true  lovers,  and  to 
the  eternal  discomfiture  of  Talfourd 
Jones  and  his  kind. 

It  was  a  bright  September  morning, 
and  as  Mr.  Robert  Challis  entered  the 
common  room  of  the  Marion  County 
Golf  Club  he  was  conscious  of  an  ex 
hilaration  of  spirit  quite  in  keeping 
with  the  favorable  weather  conditions. 
And  the  coincidence  was  not  surprising, 
seeing  that  he  was  only  five-and-twenty, 
was  in  love  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
and  had  just  done  the  long  course  in 
eighty -two  —  three  strokes  below  the 
amateur  record.  Alas  !  that  such  per 
fect  happiness  should  be  so  evanescent  ; 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

its  overflowing  completeness  was  but  an 
evidence  of  its  mortal  and  transitory 
nature.  Upon  the  bulletin-board  had 
been  posted  a  list  of  candidates  for 
membership,  and  he  walked  over  to  look 
at  it.  One  name  caught  his  eye. 

"  Talfourd  Jones  !"  he  muttered,  dis 
contentedly  ;  "  what  the  deuce  does  that 
mean  ?  I  thought  he  was  out  West 
somewhere  and  clear  of  Lauriston  for 
good.  Hang  it  all  !  he  said  so,  didn't 
he  ?  It's  a  beastly  shame  that  a  man 
shouldn't  know  his  own  mind.  I'd  like 
to  know  just  what  Mr.  Talfourd  Jones 
is  up  to  now — 'pon  my  word,  I  would." 

But  the  bulletin-board  had  no  further 
information  to  impart  regarding  Mr. 
Jones  and  his  plans  for  the  future,  and 
Challis  was  obliged  to  betake  himself  to 
the  smoking-room,  where  he  sat  down 
over  a  Scotch-and-soda  to  consider  the 
situation. 

Now,  no  one  can  be  expected  to  have 
a  sincere  liking  for  the  man  who  does 
everything,  from  mumble  -  the  -  peg  up 
132 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

to  steeple-chasing,  just  a  shade  better 
than  yourself.  Jones  was  one  of  those 
infernally  clever  fellows  who  excel  with 
out  apparent  effort  in  any  department 
of  manual  skill,  and  Bob  had  played  sec 
ond  fiddle  to  him  for  more  years  than  he 
cared  to  remember. 

But  even  apart  from  that,  there  was 
Louie  Trevor.  Now,  their  respective 
relations  with  that  charming  young 
woman  had  always  been  somewhat  ill- 
defined,  and  Miss  Trevor  had  never 
shown  the  smallest  inclination  to  arrive 
at  a  more  definite  understanding.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  and  if  actions  mean 
anything,  she  rather  preferred  to  ag 
gravate  the  uncertainty.  Finally  Jones 
had  left  town,  but  even  then  Challis  felt 
that  he  was  still  being  kept  at  arm's- 
length.  It  really  seemed  as  though 
Jones  had  played  a  winning  card  by  go 
ing  away  ;  at  any  rate,  his  shadowy  per 
sonality  continued  to  be  a  disturbing 
factor  in  the  sentimental  equation 
that  Bob  was  so  anxious  to  work  out. 
133 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

And  here  he  was  back  again  in  Lau- 
riston. 

But  there  was  still  another  complica 
tion. 

When  golf  was  first  introduced  at 
Lauriston,  Bob  Challis  tried  the  game 
and  ran  the  usual  gamut  of  sarcastic 
scepticism,  amused  tolerance,  and  fran 
tic  infatuation.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
took  to  golf  very  readily  and  soon  be 
came  one  of  the  club's  leading  players. 
It  was  freely  acknowledged  that  he 
stood  an  excellent  chance  of  coming  out 
club  champion  in  the  tournament  that 
was  to  be  held  in  October,  and  there  was 
one  particular  reason  which  impelled 
him  to  strain  every  nerve  in  order  to 
win  that  coveted  distinction.  Louie 
Trevor  was  also  a  golfer,  and  she  took 
a  profound  and  absorbing  interest  in 
the  game  and  in  everything  pertaining 
to  it.  Not  that  she  played  well  herself, 
for,  indeed,  she  was  a  most  indifferent 
performer.  What  did  it  profit,  in  the 
golfing  sense,  that  in  Miss  Trevor's  eye 
134 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

lay  her  chief  claim  to  beauty  ?  Soft, 
tender,  and  expressive  as  it  was,  it  was 
absolutely  impossible  for  her  to  keep 
it  on  the  ball.  And  that  exquisitely 
moulded  hand  was  nevertheless  a  most 
fatally  incompetent  weapon  for  the 
wielding  of  an  iron.  To  see  Miss  Tre 
vor  play  golf  was  a  most  bewitching  and 
yet  withal  a  most  sorrowful  spectacle. 
Cest  magnifiqiie  mais  cc  n'cst  pas  Icgolf. 
It  is  human  nature  that  we  particu 
larly  admire  in  others  the  qualities  that 
we  know  to  be  wanting  in  ourselves. 
Miss  Trevor  was  wildly  enthusiastic  over 
Bob  Challis — as  a  golfer.  He  could  not 
deceive  himself  as  to  the  character  of 
her  flattering  interest  in  his  play.  It 
was  too  clearly  impersonal.  And  yet 
anything  was  better  than  absolute  in 
difference  ;  her  undisguised  admiration 
for  his  golfing  prowess  might  perhaps 
in  time  grow  into  something  warmer. 
At  any  rate,  she  expected  him  to  win 
the  Lackawanna  Cup  at  the  coming 
tournament,  and  had  heavily  backed 
135 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

him  in  six-button  gloves.  Yes,  he  must, 
he  would,  win  ;  everything  depended 
upon  his  success.  To  win  !  and  there 
was  the  name  of  Talfourd  Jones  upon 
the  list  of  candidates  for  membership. 

It  is  a  tolerably  well-established  fact 
that  the  worst  ills  of  life  are  those  that 
we  encounter  in  anticipation.  To  Chal- 
lis's  unbounded  surprise,  Jones  did  not 
seem  to  take  any  interest  in  golf,  al 
though  elected  in  due  course  to  all  the 
privileges  of  the  club.  And  indifference 
is  a  much  safer  attitude  than  open 
hostility  or  compassionate  contempt, 
as  Bob  knew  very  well.  Jones  simply 
didn't  care  to  play  golf,  and  he  certainly 
knew  nothing  about  the  game.  He 
spoke  of  the  clubs  as  "  sticks,"  pro 
nounced  putt  as  though  it  rhymed  with 
foot,  and  appeared  wholly  unable  to 
grapple  with  the  arithmetical  subtleties 
of  "  one  off  three  "  or  u  four  down."  He 
was  a  duffer,  pure  and  simple. 

Now,  it  was  a  moral  certainty  that  he 
would  catch  the  disease  in  time,  but  if 
136 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

the  inevitable  could  be  staved  off  for  a 
week  or  two  longer  there  was  no  fear  of 
his  looming  up  as  a  possible  rival  for 
the  Lackawanna  Cup.  But  how  to  go 
about  it  ? 

As  we  all  know,  in  these  days  of  sci 
entific  germ  theories,  there  is  no  surer 
way  of  protecting  a  man  against  disease 
than  by  systematically  inoculating  him 
with  its  attenuated  virus.  Behold  the 
inspiration  !  Bob  Challis  resolved  to 
make  Jones  golf-proof.  He  would  talk 
and  preach  of  golf  at  him  until  Jones 
should  come  to  loathe  its  very  name. 
It  should  be  golf,  golf,  golf,  until  the 
unhappy  man  should  be  driven  to  the 
awful  extremity  of  golficide — if  there  be 
any  such  surcease  for  sorrow  in  the 
world  of  cleek  and  niblick.  The  treat 
ment  should  be  kept  up  until  Bob  had 
won  those  gloves  for  Louie  Trevor,  and 
with  them  the  little  hand  for  which  they 
were  designed.  Miss  Trevor,  in  her 
feminine  capacity,  was  an  inscrutable 
mystery,  but  even  the  strongest  chain 
137 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

may  have  its  weak  links,  and  in  this 
case  they  were  golf-links.  All  of  which 
goes  to  show  that  love  may  sharpen  a 
man's  wits,  even  though  it  temporarily 
takes  some  yards  off  his  driving. 

Bob  Challis  put  this  ingenious  plan  of 
action  into  immediate  execution,  and  at 
the  end  of  a  week  he  noticed  that  Jones 
was  beginning  to  avoid  him.  Plainly 
he  was  bored  by  Bob's  continual  talk  of 
the  "  shop."  This  was  encouraging,  and 
a  day  or  two  after  he  waylaid  Jones 
and  compelled  him  to  take  part  in  a 
"  mixed  foursome,"  a  refined  mode  of 
torture  which  might  properly  come  un 
der  the  head  of  cruel  and  unusual  forms 
of  punishment.  Bob  followed  up  this  as 
sault  by  getting  Jones  into  a  corner  of 
the  piazza  and  reading  to  him  from  the 
Badminton  volume  on  golf  for  two  mor 
tal  hours.  Finally,  Jones  seized  his  hat 
and  broke  away,  under  pretence  of  an 
engagement  in  town.  For  three  days 
he  did  not  come  near  the  club,  and  lit 
tle  by  little  he  took  to  staying  away  al- 
138 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

together.     Bob  felt  that  victory  was  al 
most  within  his  grasp. 

It  was  the  Wednesday  before  the  tour 
nament,  and  the  last  day  upon  which 
entries  might  be  made.  As  Challis 
scanned  the  list  posted  upon  the  bulle 
tin  he  had  a  comfortable  feeling  that 
no  one  was  likely  to  press  him  very 
hard.  It  was  another  source  of  satis 
faction  that  Louie  Trevor  had  just  re 
turned  from  Lenox  ;  he  was  to  meet  her 
at  eleven  o'clock  for  a  round  over  the 
short  course.  He  might  as  well  have  a 
pipe  while  he  was  waiting,  so  he  walked 
into  the  smoking-room,  where  he  found 
Jones  yawning  over  a  morning  paper. 
Somehow  his  presence  gave  Challis  a 
disagreeable  shock,  but,  after  all,  there 
was  no  occasion  for  alarm.  So  he  greet 
ed  Jones  cheerfully  and  challenged  him 
to  a  point-to-point  putting  contest. 
Jones  politely  but  firmly  declined,  and 
Bob  thereupon  followed  him  out  on  the 
piazza  and  began  a  dissertation  upon 
the  merits  of  a  certain  patent  in  driving- 
139 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

cleeks.  Jones  looked  bored,  and  finally 
said  as  much.  Bob  refused  to  be  shak 
en  off,  and  droned  steadily  along  on  the 
advantages  of  a  "  centred  "  face  in  keep 
ing  the  ball  straight.  He  noted  with 
satisfaction  that  his  victim  was  stealth 
ily  reaching  for  his  hat,  and  proceeded 
to  quote  from  the  authorities. 

"  I  say,"  broke  in  Jones,  suddenly, 
"  who  is  that  remarkably  pretty  girl 
standing  at  the  home  hole?  I  don't 
remember  having  seen  her  here  before." 

It  was  Louie  Trevor,  of  course,  and 
Bob  reluctantly  admitted  as  much. 

"Well,"  continued  Jones,  critically, 
"the  ugly  duckling  has  certainly  be 
come  a  swan.  That  Louie  Trevor  !  I 
believe  I'll  just  stroll  over  and  renew 
the  acquaintance.  Eh  !  What's  that  ? 
You  want  me  to  go  and  see  you  try  a 
new  driver  ?  Oh,  you  be  hanged,  and 
youT gvzvf,  too."  And  Mr.  Jones  rudely 
turned  his  back  and  strode  jauntily 
away  to  where  Miss  Trevor  was  stand 
ing. 

140 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

Bob  tried  to  follow,  but  the  visible 
world  was  spinning  about  him,  and  he 
had  to  clutch  at  the  piazza  railing  for 
support.  In  an  instant  he  had  realized 
the  situation,  made  terribly  plain  in 
those  few  careless  parting  words.  That 
significant  pronunciation,^^/";  he  knew 
too  well  all  that  it  implied.  Most  of  the 
Marion  County  members  called  it  golf, 
with  a  decided  leaning  on  the  /,  and 
there  was  a  small  minority  who  prided 
themselves  on  saying  goff.  But  no  one 
ever  said  gowf,  a  Scoticism  that  as  yet 
had  not  ventured  south  of  the  Tweed. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  Jones  was  not 
the  duffer  that  he  seemed?  And  the 
world  spun  around  again. 

A  voice  at  his  elbow  made  him  start. 
Jones  was  standing  at  his  side  and  look 
ing  particularly  animated  and  cheerful. 

"By  Jove!"  said  the  perjured  one, 
"  but  that  little  Miss  Trevor  is  a  ripper, 
and  she's  stark  mad  about  the  gotvf.  I 
rather  think,  old  man,  that  we'll  have  to 
have  a  set-to  for  the  kudos  of  the  thing, 
141 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

though  I  haven't  played  since  I  won  the 
May  Medal  at  St.  Andrew's." 

"  St.  Andrew's  at  Yonkers?"  inquired 
Challis,  in  a  dull,  dead  voice. 

"  No  ;  Scotland.  I  learned  the  game 
there  three  years  ago.  Ha,  ha !  No 
wonder  you  couldn't  teach  me  your 
swing."  And  the  hypocritical  villain 
walked  up  to  the  bulletin  -  board  and 
wrote  in  bold  characters  the  name  of 
Talfourd  Jones  upon  the  tournament 
list,  ending  the  scrawl  with  an  insuffer 
able  flourish. 

Now  there  are  men  among  men,  and 
after  the  first  shock  was  over  Bob  set 
his  teeth  hard  and  proceeded  to  look  the 
situation  squarely  in  the  face.  Of 
course  he  would  play,  and  play  his  best 
to  win,  but  so  far  as  Louie  Trevor  was 
concerned  he  must  now  take  his  chances 
as  a  man  and  not  as  a  golfer.  He 
would  not  even  condescend  to  expose 
Jones's  treachery,  although  by  so  doing 
he  might  score  a  point.  And,  after  all, 
golf,  despite  its  undoubted  merits  as  an 
142 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

outdoor  sport,  was  not  necessarily  a 
lasting  bond  of  union  or  a  sure  basis  of 
conjugal  happiness.  Supposing  that 
Louie  Trevor  actually  married  him  on 
the  strength  of  his  game,  might  she 
not  have  reason  to  regret  her  action  if 
he  chanced  to  go  off  in  his  driving? 
There  was  even  the  possibility  of  his  be 
coming  permanently  disabled.  What  if 
he  lost  an  arm  in  a  railway  smash-up? 
No  !  a  thousand  times  no  !  He  would 
win  her  if  he  could,  but  it  should  be  his 
heart  and  not  the  Lackawanna  Cup 
that  he  would  offer  for  her  acceptance. 
As  for  the  latter,  let  the  best  man 
take  it. 

There  being  a  large  field  of  entries, 
the  tournament  for  the  cup  was  start 
ed  on  Thursday,  with  the  idea  that  the 
finals  should  take  place  on  Saturday  af 
ternoon.  By  the  chance  of  the  drawing 
it  fell  out  that  Jones  and  Challis  were  in 
separate  divisions,  and,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  the  former  was  paired  with  all 
the  incorrigible  duffers  in  the  club. 
M3 


THE     PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

Challis  won  his  first  and  second  rounds 
by  steady  work,  and  succeeded  in  pull 
ing  off  his  semi-finals  by  defeating  Eg- 
erton,  the  club  captain,  in  a  brilliantly 
played  match.  Jones  still  refused  to 
show  his  hand,  and  won  his  games  by 
narrow  margins,  thereby  leading  the 
spectators  to  believe  that  he  would  be 
an  easy  mark  for  Challis  in  the  finals. 
There  was  no  particular  reason  for  these 
underhand  manoeuvres,  unless  the  tor 
tuous  mind  of  Mr.  Jones  considered  that 
his  final  triumph  would  be  thereby  ren 
dered  more  brilliant  and  spectacular. 
Bob  may  have  understood,  but  he  made 
no  sign. 

Greatly  to  the  surprise  of  all,  the 
final  match  turned  out  to  be  a  very 
even  fight.  Bob  was  playing  the  game 
of  his  life,  and  it  was  such  good  golf 
that  Jones  had  some  difficulty  in  keep 
ing  up  with  the  pace.  At  the  finish  of 
the  first  round  of  eighteen  holes  Challis 
was  one  up,  and  the  graduate  of  St.  An 
drew's  was  beginning  to  look  anxious. 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

The  "gallery"  wondered  and  applaud 
ed,  and  Miss  Trevor  was  quite  beside 
herself  with  excitement.  It  was  a  ding- 
dong  battle  for  the  next  nine  holes,  and 
when  the  contestants  started  on  the 
last  quarter  the  game  was  square.  Of 
the  next  eight  holes  both  men  won 
three,  the  remaining  two  being  halved, 
and  the  score  was  still  even.  Challis 
had  the  honor  at  the  thirty-sixth  hole, 
and  he  drove  a  beautiful  low  ball  that 
left  him  in  a  good  position  some  sixty 
yards  short  of  the  hole.  Jones  topped 
his  ball  on  the  drive,  but,  recovering  his 
nerve,  made  a  fine  brassey  shot  that  sent 
his  ball  flying  far  and  sure.  It  fell  just 
behind  Bob's  ball,  and  Jones  was  obliged 
to  play  "  two  more,"  the  third  stroke 
laying  him  dead  at  the  hole.  He  was 
sure  to  be  down  in  four,  while  Bob  was 
sixty  yards  away  with  two  strokes  to 
spare.  The  ball  was  lying  fair,  and  Bob, 
taking  his  "  iron,"  looked  up  to  measure 
the  distance.  Now  it  was  all  against 
the  rules,  but  Louie  Trevor  had  some- 
K  145 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

how  managed  to  elude  the  vigilance  of 
the  rope-holder,  and  was  standing  a  lit 
tle  to  his  right  and  some  ten  yards 
ahead  of  the  ball.  Bob  saw  her  as  he 
looked  up,  and  for  a  moment  a  mist 
seemed  to  fill  his  eyes  and  his  pulse 
bounded  wildly.  He  felt  a  jangle  at  his 
nerves  that  up  to  this  time  had  been 
steady  as  a  rock,  but  already  the  club- 
head  had  swung  back  for  the  stroke. 
Down  came  the  flashing  iron  with  an  in- 
drawing  cut,  and  the  ball,  sliced  beyond 
repair,  rose  into  the  air  with  a  gentle 
curve  directly  towards  Miss  Trevor.  In 
stinctively  she  put  out  her  hands,  and, 
mirabile  dictu,  the  ball  settled  quietly 
in  them.  Incredible,  perhaps,  but  there 
are  the  minutes  of  the  recording  sec 
retary  ;  a  miracle  if  you  please,  but  re 
member  that  Louie  Trevor  was  an  angel. 
There  was  a  buzz  of  "  Ohs !"  and 
"Ahs  !"  a  babel  of  exclamations  and  sur 
prised  remonstrances,  but  Miss  Trevor 
stood  motionless  as  a  graven  image, 
with  the  ball  still  in  her  hand. 
146 


THE    PERIPATETIC     HAZARD 

"  Put  it  down  !"  "  It's  a  rub  of  the 
green  !"  "  It  can't  be  played  at  all !" 
"  He  loses  stroke  and  distance  !"  arose 
in  contradictory  clamor  about  the  ears 
of  the  unfortunate  referee,  and  still 
Miss  Trevor,  with  white  cheeks  and 
close-pursed  lips,  held  the  unlucky  ball. 
And  then,  moved  by  some  inexplicable 
influence,  everybody  stopped  short  and 
waited  for  the  referee  to  speak.  But  it 
was  Talfourd  Jones  who  broke  the  si 
lence.  He  spoke  coolly  and  distinctly  : 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Referee,  that  the  ques 
tion  can  only  be  settled  under  the  St. 
Andrew's  Rules  for  Match  Play,  and  ac 
cording  to  number  twenty-two  : 

"  '  Whatever  happens  by  accident  to  a  ball  in 
motion,  such  as  its  being  deflected  or  stopped 
by  any  agency  outside  of  the  match,  ...  is  a 
"  rub  of  the  green,"  and  the  ball  shall  be  played 
from  where  it  lies.' 

"  And  also  number  twenty-nine  : 

"  '  A  ball  must  be  played  wherever  it  lies  or 
the  hole  be  given  up.'  " 
147 


THE    PERIPATETIC     HAZARD 

The  referee  looked  puzzled. 

"And  that  means — ?" 

"  That  Mr.  Challis  must  play  the  ball 
out  of  Miss  Trevor's  hands  or  lose  the 
match,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  calmly. 

There  was  another  buzz  from  the 
"  gallery  "  quite  impossible  to  set  down 
in  type,  since  no  printer's  case  could 
possibly  stand  the  strain  upon  the  box 
containing  the  exclamation-points.  Of 
course,  Jones's  motive  in  making  the 
point  was  perfectly  clear.  If  the  strict 
wording  of  the  rule  were  adhered  to, 
Bob  would  have  to  make  a  pretence 
at  a  stroke  to  get  the  ball  from  Miss 
Trevor's  hand  to  the  ground.  That 
would  count  as  his  third  shot  and  would 
leave  his  ball  still  sixty  yards  short  of 
the  green,  while  his  adversary's  lay  dead 
at  the  hole.  There  was  not  one  chance 
in  ten  thousand  that  Bob,  in  playing 
the  "like,"  could  hole  out  and  so  halve 
the  match,  and  to  win  it  was  of  course 
impossible. 

"  Refer  it  to  the  Green  Committee," 
148 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

suggested  Egerton,  the  captain  of  the 
club. 

The  referee  looked  relieved,  and  Bob 
was  about  to  assent  to  this  reasonable 
proposition  when  he  again  caught  Miss 
Trevor's  eye,  and  to  his  amazement  it 
expressed  a  decided  negative. 

"Well,  Mr.  Challis?"  said  the  referee, 
and  this  time  Miss  Trevor  distinctly 
shook  her  head. 

"  I  waive  my  right  of  appeal,"  said 
Bob,  firmly. 

Miss  Trevor  smiled  approvingly,  and 
so  did  Jones. 

"  Then  the  ball  must  be  played  as  the 
rules  provide,  Mr.  Challis  having  de 
clined  to  appeal.  Is  that  clearly  under 
stood  ?" 

Both  Jones  and  Challis  nodded,  and  the 
referee  ordered  play.  Bob  stepped  for 
ward^  but  already  Miss  Trevor  had  turned 
and  was  calmly  walking  away  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  eighteenth  putting-green. 

"  Hey,  there  !"  shouted  Jones,  forget 
ting  his  manners  in  his  surprise.  "  I 
149 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

mean,    I    beg    your    pardon,    but    you 
mustn't  do  that." 

Miss  Trevor  stopped  and  looked  at 
him  coolly.  "  Mustn't  do  what  ?" 

"  Why,  you're  carrying  the  ball  away 
with  you,  and  it's  in  a  hazard." 

"  Precisely  ;  and  it  is  still  there,"  said 
Miss  Trevor,  opening  her  hand  and 
showing  the  ball  lying  snugly  in  its 
pretty,  pink  palm. 

"  But  you're  the  hazard  yourself," 
contended  Mr.  Jones,  angrily  ;  "  official 
ly  declared  and  accepted  as  such  by 
both  parties  to  the  match.  You  must 
obey  the  rules  of  the  game." 

"  I  don't  know  of  anything  in  the 
rules,  Mr.  Jones,  providing  for  the  per 
sonal  behavior  of  the  hazards,  so  long 
as  they  keep  safely  what  is  intrusted  to 
their  care.  I  happen  to  be  a  peripa 
tetic  hazard,  and  I  shall  go  where  I 
please."  And  thereupon  Miss  Trevor 
walked  on  towards  the  hole. 

"  I   protest !"  said   Jones,  wildly.     "  I 
appeal  to  the  Green  Committee !" 
150 


THE    PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

"  You  both  waived  your  right  to  ap 
peal  the  case,"  said  the  referee,  firmly, 
"  and  I  must  now  stick  to  the  strict  in 
terpretation  of  the  rules.  To  interfere 
with  a  hazard  would  be  a  distinct  viola 
tion  of  fundamental  principles.  The 
only  thing  we  can  do  is  to  follow  Miss 
Trevor  until  she  stops  and  thereby  al 
lows  the  ball  to  be  played." 

Wondering  and  silent,  the  players  and 
"  gallery  "  moved  rapidly  forward  to  the 
home  putting-green,  where  Miss  Tre 
vor  was  standing  close  to  the  hole. 

"  Take  out  the  flag,"  said  the  referee, 
and  it  was  done.  "  Now,  Mr.  Challis." 

"  One  moment,  please,"  said  Miss  Tre 
vor,  stooping  down  and  holding  the  ball 
daintily  in  her  ringers  and  directly  over 
the  hole.  And  then  the  crowd  under 
stood  at  last,  and  an  irrepressible  cheer 
went  up  that  fairly  straightened  out  the 
flags. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Jones?"  asked  the 
referee  ;  but  that  gentleman  had  effaced 
himself.  "  Play  three,  Mr.  Challis,"  he 
151 


PERIPATETIC    HAZARD 

continued.  Bob  touched  the  ball  light 
ly  with  his  niblick  and  it  dropped  into 
the  cup. 

"  Down  in  three,"  announced  the  ref 
eree,  calmly.  "  Mr.  Challis  wins  the 
match  and  cup  by  one  up." 

There  was  another  outburst  of  cheers 
and  congratulations,  and  then,  somehow, 
the  crowd  melted  discreetly  away  and 
Bob  and  Miss  Trevor  were  left  standing 
alone  on  the  field  of  triumph. 

The  stars  were  just  beginning  to 
come  out  as  they  walked  slowly  back  to 
the  club-house.  The  evening  air  was 
so  quiet  and  still  that  it  startled  them 
when,  from  the  distance,  came  a  con 
fused  noise  of  crashing  iron  and  splin 
tering  wood.  Bob  looked  at  Miss  Tre 
vor  inquiringly. 

"  I  rather  think,"  returned  that  astute 
young  person,  demurely,  "  that  it  must 
be  Mr.  Jones  breaking  up  his  clubs." 

And  so  it  was. 


THE    LOST    BALL 


THE    LOST    BALL 


"  SPEAKING  of  extraordinary  happen 
ings  at  golf,"  said  the  Ancient  and  Hon 
orable,  reflectively,  "  there  was  the  great 
midnight  match  between  Mayne  Riv 
ers  and  Jimmy  Traphagen.  And  it  was 
pretty  golf,  too,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
it  took  two  men  to  play  it  and  a  woman 
to  lose  it." 

There  was  an  instant  and  expectant 
silence  in  the  group  around  the  smok 
ing-room  fire,  for  the  Ancient  was  the 
oldest  member  of  the  Marion  County 
Golf  Club,  and  his  reminiscences  always 
commanded  respectful  attention.  Even 
The  Fiend,  who  was  practising  stymies 
into  a  ginger-ale  tumbler,  looked  up  in 
quiringly. 


THE    LOST    BALL 

"  I  fancy  that  it  was  before  our  day," 
spoke  up  Alderson  ;  "  but  if  you  don't 
mind,  sir,  we'd  like  to  have  the  story." 

"  Hear  !  hear  !"  seconded  the  chorus  ; 
and  the  Ancient  smiled,  visibly  gratified. 
He  stared  introspectively  at  the  fire 
where  the  fragments  of  Robinson 
Brown's  last  score-card  were  still  smoul 
dering,  while  Montague  woke  up  the 
Man-in-tJie-Corncr,  and  the  neat-handed 
Peter  quickly  interpreted  and  made 
good  the  measure  of  Egerton's  expres 
sive  wink.  The  circle  drew  closer  to 
gether  ;  the  preliminaries  were  accom 
plished. 

"  Now  then,  sir,  if  you  are  ready," 
reported  Alderson. 

"  It  was  a  long,  long  time  ago,"  began 
the  Ancient,  slowly,  "  but  it  was  a  great 
match,  gentlemen  ;  we  don't  see  such 
golf  nowadays,  nor  for  such  a  stake, 
either.  But  we'll  get  to  the  story  all 
the  quicker  if  we  cliercJier  la  fenimc 
without  wasting  any  more  words. 

"  And  a  charming  creature  she  was, 
156 


THE    LOST    BALL 

Mrs.  Edna  Severn  Chase  by  name,  some 
where  in  the  '  truth  and  twenties,'  and 
a  widow  without  encumbrances.  I  dare 
say  she's  *  fib  and  forty  '  now,  and  per 
haps  the  '  willowy '  is  inclining  a  trifle 
to  the  '  billowy,'  but  she's  a  fine  woman 
yet.  I  saw  her  only  yesterday  driving 
in  the  park,  and  I'm  not  above  confess 
ing  that  I  looked  back  as  she  passed. 
And  you  would  have  done  the  same  had 
you  been  with  me. 

"  All  this,  remember,  was  back  in  the 
year  one  (at  the  Marion  County  Club 
we  always  used  the  golfing  calendar,  and 
dated  everything  back  to  the  first  na 
tional  amateur  tournament)  —  in  the 
year  one,  I  say,  when  golf  and  Mrs. 
Chase  were  the  very  latest  sensations  in 
Lauriston.  You  should  have  seen  her 
then,  standing  at  the  first  tee  with  the 
rest  of  us,  fighting  for  front  places  in 
the  *  gallery/  Of  course  she  couldn't 
play  golf,  but  shall  I  ever  forget  those 
frocks  ?  Dear  me  !  it  was  twenty  years 
ago,  and  half  the  members  of  the  club 
i57 


THE    LOST    BALL 

didn't  know  the  difference  between 
'  one  off  two  '  and  a  '  rub  of  the  green.' 

"For  all  that,  we  enjoyed  our  sensa 
tions,  the  foozling  that  went  for  golf 
and  the  always  fascinating  society  of 
Mrs.  Edna  Severn  Chase  ;  Mayne  Riv 
ers,  in  particular,  and  also  Jimmy  Tra- 
phagen — good  fellows,  both  of  them,  and 
golfers  too,  if  you'll  believe  it,  of  twenty 
years  ago.  It  used  to  be  neck  and  neck 
between  them  for  the  possession  of  the 
Hong-Kong  Medal  ;  first  one  would  win 
it,  and  then  the  other,  but  they  re 
mained  fast  friends  through  it  all — at 
least  until  Mrs.  Chase  appeared  on  the 
scene. 

"  It  was  not  that  she  gave  either  of 
them  any  marked  encouragement ;  in 
fact,  that  was  just  where  the  trouble 
came  in.  And  none  of  us  suspected 
that  the  delightful  widow  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  rather  strained  rivalry 
that  gradually  grew  up  between  them. 
Ostensibly  they  chose  to  differ  along 
golfing  lines,  and  the  chaffing  invari- 
158 


THE    LOST    BALL 

ably  ended  in  the  making  up  of  some 
ridiculous  match  with  a  pretty  stiff  stake 
to  back  it.  Traphagen  would  play  one 
club  against  Rivers's  bagful,  or  Rivers 
would  take  a  handicap  of  ten  strokes 
and  bind  himself  to  get  into  every 
recognized  hazard  on  the  course.  The 
rest  of  us  used  to  find  this  'gymkhana 
golf  very  good  fun,  and  we  never 
dreamed  of  the  deadly  earnestness  that 
lay  behind  it  all. 

"  Finally  the  climax  came.  There  had 
been  a  discussion  in  the  smoking-room 
upon  the  value  of  good  eyesight  in  golf- 
playing,  and,  as  usual,  Rivers  and  Tra 
phagen  took  opposite  sides.  The  talk 
grew  pretty  warm,  and  at  last  Rivers 
intimated  bluntly  that  Traphagen's  eye 
sight  must  be  particularly  defective  in 
that  he  never  could  see  where  he  wasn't 
wanted.  Jimmy  retorted  in  kind,  and 
the  upshot  was  a  match  between  them 
for  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  side, 
and  to  be  played  at  midnight  on  the 
coming  Thursday,  when  the  moon  would 
159 


THE    LOST    BALL 

be  down.  It  was  to  be  a  match  by  holes 
over  the  long  course,  and  it  was  stipu 
lated  that  no  forecaddies  were  to  be  em 
ployed.  Each  man  might  have  a  friend 
to  carry  for  him  and  advise  him,  but 
these  assistants  would  be  obliged  to 
keep  behind  the  ball.  It  was  tacitly 
understood  that  sharp  practice  would 
be  largely  in  evidence,  though  any  de 
tected  violation  of  the  rules  would,  of 
course,  incur  the*usual  penalties.  They 
asked  me  to  referee,  and  I  consented, 
warning  each  contestant  that  I  should 
certainly  uphold  the  rigor  of  the  game, 
and  should  decide  each  point  solely 
upon  its  merits.  And  so  it  was  ar 
ranged. 

"  I  need  hardly  say  that  the  real  wager 
between  the  two  men  involved  some 
thing  more  than  the  money  that  was  at 
stake.  The  private  understanding  was 
that  the  loser  should  take  the  money 
and  use  it  in  buying  railway  transporta 
tion  out  of  Lauriston  and  to  the  farthest 
point  of  the  United  States  for  which  it 
160 


THE    LOST    BALL 

would  pay,  allowing,  of  course,  for  hotel 
bills  and  for  the  return  trip.  During 
this  enforced  absence  of  the  loser  the 
winner  would  have  a  clear  field  with 
the  fascinating  Mrs.  Chase,  and  might 
reasonably  be  expected  to  bring  his  un 
hampered  suit  to  a  favorable  issue.  It 
was  furthermore  agreed  that  the  de 
feated  contestant  should  leave  Lauris- 
ton  immediately  after  the  match,  with 
out  attempting  any  explanation  of  his 
extraordinary  conduct  to  the  fair  one  in 
dispute.  It  should  be  the  privilege  of 
the  winner  to  interpret  this  cruel  and 
mysterious  action  on  the  part  of  the  ab 
sent  one  to  his  own  best  advantage 
with  the  lovely  widow,  and  it  would  be 
strange  indeed  if  he  could  not  succeed 
in  turning  it  to  good  account.  For  all 
practical  purposes  the  loser  would  be 
once  and  forever  out  of  the  running. 
Very  clever  and  ingenious  reasoning,  as 
you  must  admit,  but  it  had  one  fatal 
and  unsuspected  weakness  —  the  logic 
was  all  from  the  masculine  standpoint ; 

L  iCl 


THE    LOST    BALL 

Mrs.  Edna  Severn  Chase,  in  her  femi 
nine  capacity,  had  been  entirely  over 
looked  by  Messrs.  Rivers  and  Tra- 
phagen. 

"Now  don't  ask  me  to  explain  how 
she  came  to  know  all  about  it — that  is 
a  prerogative  of  her  sex,  involving  psy 
chology  and  telepathy  and  a  lot  of  other 
things  which  lie  quite  outside  of  match 
play  at  golf,  and  are  therefore  incom 
prehensible  to  the  masculine  mind.  It 
is  enough  to  say  that  she  did  know,  and 
that  she  took  her  measures  accordingly, 
as  we  shall  see.  The  rest  of  us  accepted 
the  match  on  its  exoteric  side,  and  went 
in  simply  for  the  fun  of  the  thing. 
Dick  Edwards  opened  a  book  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  sporting  element, 
and  the  midnight  match  quickly  became 
the  sole  and  all-absorbing  topic  of  con 
versation. 

"Thursday   night    came,   and  it   was 

a   dark  one,  sure  enough.     Not  a  star 

was  visible,  the  sky  was  overcast  with 

lowering  clouds,  and  as  one  stood  at  the 

162 


THE    LOST    BALL 

tee  it  was  like  looking  into  a  bag  of 
black  cats.  Both  principals  were  on  the 
ground  early,  and  each  appeared  quiet 
ly  confident  of  success.  Of  course,  Mrs. 
Chase  was  among  the  spectators,  and 
just  here  Rivers  scored  a  point  by  bold 
ly  asking  her  to  caddie  for  him.  Tra- 
phagen  looked  glum  at  this,  but  as  he 
had  already  engaged  the  services  of  the 
resident  professional,  he  could  have  no 
objections  to  offer. 

"  Midnight  struck  from  the  town 
clock,  and  I  called  play.  Traphagen 
won  the  toss  and  advanced  to  the  tee. 
It  was  a  most  remarkable-looking  ball 
that  he  proceeded  to  address,  and  the 
'  gallery  '  applauded  him  vigorously — or 
at  least  that  portion  of  it  who  were 
backing  him  to  win.  It  was  of  an  or 
dinary  make,  but  it  had  been  skilfully 
coated  with  a  phosphorescent  paint,  so 
that  it  glowed  all  over  with  a  pale,  shifty 
fire,  and  presented  an  excellent  mark. 
Jimmy  swung  through,  and  away  it 
soared  into  the  gloom,  leaving  behind 
163 


THE    LOST    BALL 

it  a  luminous  track  by  which  its  flight 
could  be  easily  followed.  It  fell  full 
one  hundred  and  seventy  yards  down 
the  course,  and  lay  there  distinctly  visi 
ble,  an  incandescent  point  that  could 
not  be  mistaken  or  overlooked. 

"  Rivers  did  not  appear  at  all  discon 
certed  by  this  coup,  and  immediately 
proceeded  to  drive  in  turn.  But,  to  the 
disappointment  of  the  crowd,  there  was 
nothing  unusual  about  his  ball.  He 
made  a  tremendous  swipe,  and  it  disap 
peared  into  the  darkness.  It  sounded 
as  though  the  drive  had  been  horri 
bly  sliced,  but  Rivers,  who  had  been  in 
tently  gazing  in  the  direction  of  the 
hole,  quickly  announced  himself  satisfied 
as  to  his  ball's  whereabouts,  and  the 
procession  moved  on.  *  Think  you've 
marked  it,  eh  ?'  said  Traphagen,  with  an 
ill-disguised  sneer.  '  Certainly,'  returned 
Rivers,  promptly  ;  '  it's  just  ten  yards  in 
front  of  yours,  and  on  a  line  with  the 
hole.' 

"Well,  we  came  up  with  Jimmy's  ball, 
164 


THE    LOST    BALL 

and  Rivers  walked  on  a  few  steps.  '  Here 
it  is,'  he  called  back,  and,  sure  enough, 
there  lay  his  ball  exactly  as  he  had 
marked  it  down.  Traphagen  muttered 
something  about  miracles  being  barred, 
but  there  was  no  going  behind  the  re 
turns,  and  he  was  obliged  to  play  the 
odd.  It  was  some  sixty  yards  to  the 
hole,  and  his  approach  shot  was  wild. 
Rivers  followed,  and  although  nobody 
could  see  where  the  ball  went,  he  con 
fidently  proclaimed  that  it  was  lying 
dead  at  the  hole.  Jimmy  played  up, 
but  as  the  other  ball  was  actually  on 
the  rim  of  the  cup,  he  lost  the  hole,  and 
Rivers  was  one  up. 

"  Rivers  had  the  honor,  and  drove  a 
screecher  off  into  space.  I  could  have 
sworn  that  the  ball  had  been  pulled 
clean  off  the  course,  but  Rivers  insisted 
that  he  had  marked  it  down  in  the  di 
rect  line.  Traphagen  followed,  and  it 
was  beautiful  to  watch  his  ball  whiz 
through  the  air  like  a  veritable  shoot 
ing  -  star,  and  fall,  a  living  coal  of  fire, 


THE    LOST    BALL 

into  the  short  grass  of  the  fair  green. 
There  was  certainly  no  shadow  of  a 
doubt  as  to  its  whereabouts.  But,  to 
the  confusion  of  the  sceptics,  Rivers's 
remarkable  powers  of  vision  were  again 
triumphantly  demonstrated.  He  found 
his  ball  without  an  instant's  hesitation, 
and  it  was  full  twenty  yards  inside 
of  his  adversary's.  This  was  truly 
magnificent  golf.  However,  Traphagen 
made  a  fine  approach,  while  Rivers  foo 
zled.  In  spite  of  that,  the  drive  had 
taken  him  to  the  very  edge  of  the  green, 
and  he  was  therefore  enabled  to  hole 
out  in  even  figures,  and  so  retain  his 
lead. 

u  The  third  hole  was  a  short  one,  and 
both  men  used  their  cleeks.  '  Right  on 
the  green,'  announced  Rivers.  Trapha 
gen  ground  his  teeth,  played  wildly, 
and  followed  it  up  with  a  worse  one. 
Score,  two  up  for  Rivers  ;  and  I  fancied 
that  Mrs.  Chase  looked  pleased. 

"  Another  short  hole  followed,  and 
this  time  every  one  could  see  that  Tra- 
166 


THE    LOST    BALL 

phagen's  ball  was  lying  on  the  green. 
'  Where  are  you  ?'  he  inquired  of  Rivers, 
as  we  walked  on.  *  Right  alongside  of 
you,'  responded  that  gentleman,  coolly. 
'  Indeed,  it  was  my  impression  that  you 
had  topped,  and,  by  Jove  !  I'm  right,  for 
here  you  are  in  the  bunker.' 

"It  was  Rivers's  turn  to  look  discon 
certed,  but  there  was  the  ball,  and  he 
had  to  play  it.  Three  or  four  fruitless 
strokes  with  the  niblick,  and  he  lifted, 
and  gave  up  the  hole.  *  I  gave  you  a 
chance  there,'  said  Traphagen,  as  we 
walked  over  to  the  next  tee  ;  '  it  would 
have  been  a  lost  ball  but  for  my  stum 
bling  upon  it.'  Rivers  returned  thanks, 
as  in  duty  bound,  but  it  struck  me  that 
his  acknowledgments  were  distinctly 
wanting  in  heartiness. 

"  Traphagen  got  his  ball  away  in  fine 
style  at  the  next  hole,  but  he  had  to  play 
the  odd,  all  the  same,  for  Rivers  lay  ful 
ly  forty  yards  nearer  the  green.  Each 
played  a  brassey,  and  Rivers  again  got 
the  inside  place,  and,  finally,  the  hole. 
167 


THE    LOST    BALL 

He  kept  up  his  good  work  by  taking  the 
sixth  and  seventh  in  easy  margins,  and 
his  score  was  now  four  up.  It  was  tru 
ly  marvellous,  the  way  in  which  he  man 
aged  to  keep  track  of  his  ball  in  that 
Egyptian  darkness.  He  would  bang 
away  at  it  with  the  most  perfect  uncon 
cern,  and  with  every  ounce  of  power 
that  he  could  put  into  the  stroke,  but 
somehow  he  always  contrived  to  keep 
on  the  line,  and  he  got  in  some  tremen 
dous  carries.  It  was  demon  driving 
with  a  vengeance,  and  perhaps,  as  Dick 
Edwards  suggested,  he  had  signed  an 
unholy  compact  with  the  Powers  of 
Darkness  ;  it  certainly  seemed  as  though 
the  devil  himself  must  be  acting  as  his 
forecaddie.  But  Rivers  only  laughed  at 
the  innuendo,  and  so  did  we.  After  all, 
good  eyesight  did  count  for  something 
in  golf. 

"As  for  Traphagen,  he  was  playing 

in  fair  form,  but  he  had  poor  luck  in  his 

lies,    and    was    getting    nervous.      The 

phosphorescent  ball  was  his  strong  card, 

1 68 


THE    LOST    BALL 

and  he  had  evidently  counted  upon  Riv- 
ers's  losing  several  holes  through  ina 
bility  to  find  his  ball.  To  be  disappoint 
ed  in  this  reasonable  expectation  was 
very  irritating,  and  I  couldn't  help  sym 
pathizing  with  him.  And,  more  than 
that,  I  put  in  some  hard  thinking. 

"At  the  eighth  hole  each  man  had 
taken  three  shots,  and  Traphagen's  ball 
was  on  the  edge  of  the  green.  Accord 
ing  to  Rivers,  his  ball  was  also  on  the 
green  just  back  of  the  hole,  and  he 
started  ahead  to  verify  his  assertion.  I 
was  standing  slightly  to  one  side,  and  as 
he  passed  between  me  and  the  crowd  I 
distinctly  saw  a  small  white  object  roll 
from  his  trousers  leg  and  settle  quietly 
some  fifteen  inches  from  the  hole.  And 
then  I  understood  the  ingenious  nature 
of  the  game  that  he  had  been  playing 
so  successfully  under  our  very  noses. 
It  was  evident  that  the  rascal  had  his 
coat  pockets  stuffed  with  balls,  and  he 
could  drop  one  wherever  he  pleased 
through  the  simple  agency  of  a  hole  in 
169 


THE    LOST    BALL 

his  trousers  pocket.  Of  course,  on  the 
close  range  of  the  putting-greens  he  was 
obliged  to  hole  out  fairly,  but,  with  one 
or  two  odd  always  in  hand,  he  could 
easily  afford  to  miss  a  short  putt  now 
and  then.  No  wonder  that  he  had 
played  with  such  amazing  confidence 
and  dash  off  the  tees  and  through  the 
green.  What  difference  did  it  make 
where  the  ball  went  to  so  long  as  he  had 
another  ready  to  take  its  place  ?  It  was 
evident  that  he  had  never  played  the 
same  ball  twice,  excepting  on  the  greens 
and  when  bunkered  at  the  third  hole. 
And  Traphagen  had  innocently  thought 
that  he  was  doing  him  a  favor  in  calling 
his  attention  to  that  latter  misfortune. 
I  smiled  to  recall  the  surliness  with 
which  Rivers  had  acknowledged  the  ob 
ligation. 

"  Well,  it  was  clear  enough  that  Riv 
ers  had  lost  an  average  of  at  least  two 
balls  at  every  hole,  and  that  instead  of 
being  four  up  he  was  really  seven  down. 
But  what  was  to  be  done  about  it  ?  It 
170 


THE    LOST    BALL 

was  none  of  my  business  to  interfere, 
and  as  referee  I  could  only  pronounce 
upon  the  facts  as  they  were  brought 
before  me.  Somehow  I  fancied  that 
Mrs.  Chase  had  also  penetrated  the 
mystery,  and  I  tried  the  experiment  of 
a  comprehensive  wink  in  that  direction, 
receiving  in  return  a  cold,  frosty  stare 
that  was  not  encouraging  to  confidence. 
Was  it  possible  that  she  was  really 
hoodwinked  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd, 
or  could  it  be  that  her  feelings  in  the 
matter  were  other  than  I  had  supposed  ? 
I  gave  it  up  and  turned  my  attention 
to  the  game  again  ;  decidedly,  it  was 
getting  interesting. 

"  Now  Rivers  should  have  won  this 
eighth  hole  hands  down,  but  what  did 
he  do  but  miss  two  short  putts,  while 
Traphagen  holed  out  from  the  edge  of 
the  green.  The  score  was  now,  Rivers 
three  up,  with  ten  to  play,  and  Jimmy 
was  evidently  encouraged  by  his  unex 
pected  success  in  snatching  a  hole  out 
of  the  fire.  He  won  the  ninth,  tenth, 

I7T 


THE    LOST    BALL 

and  eleventh  by  good  golf,  Rivers  putt 
ing  atrociously,  and  the  match  was 
square. 

"  By  this  time  the  '  gallery '  had 
caught  on  to  Mr.  Rivers  and  his  little 
game,  and  they  enjoyed  the  situation 
immensely.  Every  phenomenal  shot 
by  Rivers  was  greeted  with  a  laughing 
applause  that  made  Jimmy  furious,  and 
caused  him  to  miss  some  of  the  easiest 
of  chances.  Indeed,  the  match  would 
have  been  decided  at  the  fifteenth  hole 
had  not  Rivers  showed  such  lamentable 
weakness  on  the  putting-greens.  This 
was  Traphagen's  strong  point,  and  his 
putting  enabled  him  to  win  enough 
holes  to  square  the  match  again  at  the 
seventeenth.  Of  course,  this  was  the 
official  score.  If  Traphagen  and  his 
caddie,  between  them,  could  not  see 
what  was  perfectly  apparent  to  every 
body  else,  they  deserved  to  lose.  A 
man  who  was  seventeen  holes  up  and 
didn't  know  it  had  no  business  to  be 
playing  golf  at  all. 

172 


THE    LOST    BALL 

"  The  old  home  hole,  as  some  of  you 
may  remember,  was  the  longest  on  the 
course,  over  six  hundred  yards  in  all, 
and  well  protected  by  hazards.  Tra 
phagen  had  the  honor  and  led  off  with 
a  moderately  good  drive.  Rivers  did 
not  do  so  well — in  fact,  we  all  distinctly 
heard  the  fatal  splash  that  indicated 
that  he  had  pulled  into  the  pond  that 
served  as  a  side  hazard  to  the  course. 
It  seemed  impossible  that  Traphagen 
should  not  have  heard  it  too,  but  to  my 
astonishment  he  made  no  sign.  Such 
obtuseness  was  wellnigh  incredible.  Riv 
ers  muttered  something  about  his  ball 
being  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  or  so 
down  the  course,  and  still  Traphagen 
never  said  a  word.  Rivers  brightened 
up,  and,  with  a  reckless  audacity  born 
of  success,  ventured  upon  a  yet  bolder 
stroke.  In  such  a  long  hole  he  had  his 
enemy  at  his  mercy,  and  he  would  en 
joy  the  pleasure  of  playing  with  him  ; 
he  would  draw  out  the  agony  with  the 
cold-blooded  ferocity  of  the  red  Ind- 
173 


THE    LOST    BALL 

ian  who  has  his  victim  securely  at  the 
stake. 

"  The  procession  had  moved  on  for 
about  a  hundred  yards,  when  Rivers 
suddenly  signalled  a  halt. 

' '  I  declare,'  he  said,  with  admirably 
feigned  coolness,  '  I  didn't  drive  quite  so 
far  as  I  thought !  Here's  my  ball  now  !' 
and  he  skilfully  dropped  one  of  his  ex 
tra  balls  squarely  into  the  most  formi 
dable  hazard  on  the  course,  a  bunker 
which  I  am  ashamed  to  say  was  collo 
quially  known  as  my  particular  grave.  It 
was  a  piece  of  sublime  impudence,  and  I 
trembled  for  him,  but  apparently  Trapha- 
gen  had  no  suspicions.  He  and  the  pro 
fessional  came  up  and  looked  carefully  at 
the  ball,  which  lay  in  the  most  impracti 
cable  of  cups.  *  Too  bad,'  said  Jimmy, 
with  a  genuine  note  of  solicitude  in  his 
pleasant  voice.  Heavens  and  earth  !  he 
was  actually  sympathizing  with  that 
rascal  Rivers,  and  for  the  moment  I 
was  touched — I  think  we  all  were.  It 
really  was  too  bad ;  Jimmy  was  a  good 
174 


THE    LOST    BALL 

fellow,  and  I  felt  ashamed  of  myself  and 
for  Rivers.  Of  course  he  would  own  up 
now — it  would  be  the  least  that  he  could 
do  ;  and  we  would  enjoy  a  hearty  laugh 
over  the  match,  and  have  it  declared  off. 

"  But  Mr.  Rivers  did  nothing  of  the 
kind.  With  unblushing  effrontery  he 
accepted  Traphagen's  condolences  on 
his  hard  luck,  and  proceeded  to  play  the 
odd.  There  was  a  tremendous  shower 
of  sand  as  the  niblick  ploughed  into  the 
ground,  but  I  could  see  that  the  ball 
was  still  in  the  bunker.  Without  an  in 
stant's  hesitation  Rivers  buried  it  in  the 
sand  underneath  his  heel,  and  announced 
in  a  tone  of  relief  that  he  had  made  a 
fairly  good  shot  out  of  the  difficulty,  if 
he  did  say  it  himself. 

"  '  Fairly  good  shot  !'  echoed  the  in 
fatuated  Traphagen.  '  Why,  man,  it  was 
a  beauty,  the  finest  thing  I  ever  saw  ! 
You  got  out  of  that  hole  in  great  shape  ! 
It  was  really  superb.' 

"  Well,  as  I  have  said  before,  it  was  too 
bad.  I  never  felt  so  small  in  my  life  ; 
175 


THE    LOST    BALL 

but  Rivers  only  grinned;  it  was  despic 
able  of  him. 

"  The  play  went  on.  Rivers  had  taken 
the  opportunity  of  dropping  a  new  ball 
in  a  convenient  place  while  Traphagen 
was  playing  up,  and  this  time  he  gave 
himself  a  good  shot. 

" '  By  Jove  !  but  you  are  the  luckiest 
beggar !'  remarked  Traphagen,  as  he 
looked  at  the  excellent  lie  of  his  adver 
sary's  ball.  '  Did  you  ever  see  anything 
like  that,  McPherson  ?'  he  continued, 
beckoning  to  his  caddie  to  come  up. 

" '  Na  doot  but  it's  verra  fine  gowf,' 
responded  that  gentleman,  approvingly. 
4  The  mair  so  that  he's  no  by  ordinar  wi' 
the  sand-iron,  is  Mr.  Rivers.  He'll  be 
keeping  his  e'e  on  the  ba'  fine,  I'm  think 
ing.' 

"  Here  Rivers  had  the  audacity  to 
wink  at  me,  but  I  fell  back  upon  an 
official  non-committalism,  and  made  no 
response.  I  thought  his  attitude  dis 
tinctly  unchivalrous. 

"  There  were  several  exchanges  of 
176 


THE    LOST    BALL 

shots  after  this,  for  Traphagen  made 
some  very  poor  ones,  and  Rivers,  in  pur 
suance  of  his  cat-and-mouse  policy,  con 
tented  himself  with  a  bare  advantage. 
Of  course  he  continued  to  perform  his 
wonders  with  the  ball  (or  rather  balls, 
for  it  was  more  like  juggling  than  golf), 
and  after  each  miracle  Traphagen  and 
McPherson  made  it  a  point  to  come  up 
and  pass  some  admiring  comment  upon 
his  incredible  skill  and  luck.  It  was  all 
very  gentlemanly  and  sportsmanlike, 
and  I  felt  sorry  that  Rivers  should  be  so 
lost  to  all  sense  of  decency  as  to  persist 
in  his  indefensible  course  of  action.  A 
gentleman  would  have  put  his  antago 
nist  out  of  misery  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  even  sharp  practice  in  a  midnight 
golf-match  may  have  its  limits. 

"  The  score  by  strokes  now  stood, 
Traphagen  nine  and  Rivers  six,  and 
both  were  lying  some  seventy  yards 
short  of  the  hole.  Traphagen,  with  a 
nicely  calculated  iron-shot,  laid  his  ball 
well  up  on  the  green,  and  indeed  within 
M  177 


THE    LOST    BALL 

six  inches  of  the  cup.  Rivers,  out  of 
pure  bravado,  had  dropped  his  ball  into 
a  shallow  sand  bunker,  and  he  was  now 
to  play  one  off  four.  With  consummate 
coolness  he  took  his  driver — the  driver, 
of  all  clubs ! — and  banged  away.  The 
ball  bounded  off  a  flat  stone,  cleared 
the  bunker  face,  and  skimmed  like  a 
swallow  low  over  the  turf  and  straight 
for  the  hole.  It  was  a  fool's  shot,  but  a 
very  lucky  one,  and  of  course  it  had  its 
due  applause. 

" '  That  leaves  me  three  for  the  hole, 
I  believe,'  said  Rivers,  jauntily,  and  as 
referee  I  was  bound  to  assent,  although 
it  did  go  against  the  grain. 

"Rivers  started  forward  and  then 
suddenly  halted  ;  his  face  changed  ;  evi 
dently  something  was  wrong.  I  guessed 
the  trouble  in  an  instant — his  supply  of 
extra  balls  was  exhausted.  He  had 
played  his  reckless  game  just  once  too 
often,  and  now  his  folly  was  about  to 
cost  him  hole  and  match  at  this  the  last 
moment. 

178 


THE    LOST    BALL 

"  Of  course  the  Nemesis  that  had 
overtaken  him  was  one  that  he  had 
richly  deserved,  but  such  is  the  incon 
sistency  of  human  nature  that  I  found 
myself  actually  sympathizing  with  the 
villain  about  to  be  hoist  by  his  own  pe 
tard.  I  even  felt  tempted  to  help  him 
out  of  the  difficulty  by  smuggling  a 
spare  ball  of  my  own  into  his  hand. 
But  I  discovered  that  I  had  none  with 
me,  and  perhaps  it  was  just  as  well,  for 
the  act  would  have  been  a  most  unbe 
coming  one,  considering  my  official  po 
sition  as  referee. 

"  As  it  turned  out,  I  might  have  saved 
my  sympathies  for  a  worthier  cause  ;  the 
artful  Rivers  was  by  no  means  at  the 
end  of  his  rope.  Suddenly  his  face 
cleared  and  the  ring  came  back  to  his 
voice. 

"  '  Ah  !  there's  my  ball,  just  off  the 
farther  edge  of  the  green,'  he  said,  in  a 
tone  of  relief.  '  I  was  afraid  that  it 
might  have  gone  on  into  the  hazard.' 

"Well,  what  luck  that  fellow  did  have, 
179 


THE    LOST    BALL 

to  be  sure,  and  how  little  he  really 
deserved  it  !  I  began  to  sympathize 
again  with  Jimmy. 

"  '  May  I  ask,  Mr.  Referee,'  continued 
Rivers,  '  that  everybody  be  kept  back 
ten  yards  from  the  green,  including  Mr. 
Traphagen  and  his  caddie?  I  can't  do 
myself  justice  in  putting  if  there  is  any 
body  near  me.' 

"  Now  of  course  he  had  not  the  shad 
ow  of  a  right  to  exclude  his  adversary 
from  the  putting-green,  and  I  was  about 
to  say  as  much,  when,  to  my  surprise, 
Traphagen  interposed  with  a  courteous 
assent.  Well,  whom  the  gods  would 
destroy  they  first  make  mad  ;  and  the 
farce  might  as  well  end  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Accordingly,  I  ordered  every 
body  back,  and  Rivers  walked  over  to 
where  his  ball  was  supposed  to  be  lying. 
With  careful  deliberation  he  made  the 
address  and  played.  The  putter-head 
swung  through,  but  I  would  have  sworn 
before  a  jury  of  my  fellow-golfers  that 
there  was  no  answering  click  of  '  gutty  ' 
i  So 


THE    LOST    BALL 

to  iron,  nor  could  I  see  that  the  ball 
was  anywhere  on  the  green. 

" '  Dead  at  the  hole,  but  it's  still  my 
turn  to  play,'  sang  out  Rivers,  as  he 
followed  up  his  imaginary  ball.  '  Keep 
back,  you  people,  till  I  hole  out.' 

"Well,  it  was  matchless  impudence, 
but  it  seemed  impossible  that  it  could 
be  really  successful.  Was  Traphagen 
blind  or  crazy,  or  must  I  doubt  the 
evidence  of  my  own  senses?  Before  I 
could  settle  the  question  Rivers  made 
as  though  he  had  played  a  short  putt, 
and  announced  that  he  was  '  down  in 
nine.' 

"  There  was  a  lot  of  hand-clapping 
from  the  'gallery,'  and  we  all  pressed 
forward  to  the  green.  Mrs.  Chase  was 
in  the  lead,  and  before  any  one  could 
say  a  word  she  had  walked  over  to  the 
cup  and  looked  in. 

"  *  Why,  there's  no  ball  here,'  she 
said,  in  a  clear,  silvery  voice  ;  and  Riv 
ers  turned  absolutely  green. 

"  *  Eh  ?  you  don't  say  so  !'  said  Tra- 
181 


THE    LOST    BALL 

phagen,  in  a  tone  of  well  -  affected  as 
tonishment.  But  of  course  Mrs.  Chase 
was  right,  and  the  cup  was  really  empty. 
Poor  Rivers  !  he  was  the  picture  of  de 
spair  ;  and  there  stood  Mrs.  Chase  look 
ing  at  him,  with  her  pretty  lips  parted 
in  a  quizzical,  mocking  smile.  I  nev 
er  realized  before  how  cruel  a  lovely 
woman  may  be  in  her  own  soft,  femi 
nine  way.  Rivers  started  to  mumble 
something  about  mistaking  a  fallen  leaf 
for  his  ball,  but  for  once  even  his  colos 
sal  nerve  failed  him.  He  stammered, 
grew  confused,  and  ended  lamely.  It 
was  really  painful. 

'"Lost  ball  is  lost  hole  and  match,' 
said  one  of  Traphagen's  backers,  and 
Rivers  writhed  impotently. 

*  Your  ball  may  have  gone  on  into 
the  hazard,  old  man,'  said  Traphagen, 
kindly.  *  Let's  have  a  look  for  it,'  and 
he  led  the  way  into  a  dreadful  brier 
hazard  that  lay  immediately  back  of  the 
hole. 

"  Now  this  was  really  very  decent  of 
182 


THE    LOST    BALL 

Jimmy,  for  he  was  under  no  sort  of  ob 
ligation  to  aid  his  rival,  even  at  so  des 
perate  a  juncture.  But  Jimmy  always 
was  a  gentleman,  and  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  that  Rivers  -must  be  feeling 
pretty  mean  —  that  is,  if  he  had  any 
sense  of  decency  left  in  him. 

"Well,  we  ploughed  in  and  through 
that  abominable  place,  getting  ourselves 
all  torn  and  scratched  up,  until  the  five 
minutes  had  just  about  expired.  Sud 
denly  Traphagen  sang  out,  '  Here  she 
is  !'  and  we  all  hurried  up  to  have  a  look. 
There  lay  the  little  white  sphere,  half 
out  of  sight,  and  in  the  most  impossible 
of  cuppy  lies.  I  bent  down  to  have  a 
closer  look,  and  there,  plainly  stamped 
upon  it  in  red  ink,  were  the  letters  'J.  T.' 

"  It  didn't  take  much  penetration  to 
see  through  Jimmy  Traphagen's  pre 
tended  benevolence.  He  was  simply 
going  to  torture  his  enemy  in  his  turn, 
for  the  ball  was  practically  unplayable. 
I  changed  my  opinion  of  his  gentleman 
ly  character  at  once  ;  this  was  a  low  and 
183 


THE    LOST    BALL 

despicable  trick,  to  which  only  a  cadger 
could  have  descended.  But  there  was 
no  use  in  exposing  it.  The  time  was  up, 
and  if  Rivers  did  not  play  this  ball  his 
own  would  have  to  be  adjudged  as  lost. 
It  was  a  desperate  chance,  but  it  was 
his  only  one. 

"  '  Of  course  those  two  putts  of  mine 
don't  count,' said  Rivers,  coolly,  'There 
can't  be  any  shot  when  there  isn't  any 
ball  upon  which  to  play.  They  were 
only  for  practice.' 

"  Indeed  !  but  this  put  quite  another 
face  on  the  matter  !  If  those  inutile 
strokes  were  not  to  be  counted,  the  score 
would  stand,  Traphagen  ten  and  Rivers 
seven ;  and  the  latter,  with  three  to 
spare,  might  easily  manage  to  get  the 
ball  out  of  the  hazard,  and  halve,  if 
not  win,  the  hole.  Traphagen  looked 
thunderstruck,  and  Rivers  smiled  in 
quiet  triumph.  I  was  disgusted  with 
Rivers  ;  this  sort  of  thing  was  for  sea- 
lawyers  rather  than  for  golfers.  But 
the  argument  was  plausible. 
184 


THE    LOST    BALL 

"  *  According  to  Rule  4,  any  move 
ment  of  the  club  which  is  intended  to 
strike  the  ball  is  a  stroke.'  It  was  Mrs. 
Chase  who  spoke,  and  the  silence  was 
profound.  '  It  makes  no  difference,'  she 
went  on,  'that  the  ball  in  question  is 
one  inch  or  a  mile  away  from  the  play 
er.  Mr.  Rivers's  intention  was  clearly 
evident,  and  the  strokes  must  stand.' 

"  It  was  a  Portia  come  to  judgment, 
and  we  all  gasped.  I  could  not  look  at 
Rivers.  I  felt  that  this  last  blow  must 
have  completely  crushed  him.  There 
could  no  longer  be  any  question  as  to 
the  direction  in  which  the  fair  widow's 
sympathies  leaned  :  Traphagen  was  un 
doubtedly  the  favored  man. 

"  But  the  reasoning  was  incontroverti 
ble,  and  I  gave  my  decision  in  accord 
ance  with  it.  *  The  strokes  must  stand  : 
Traphagen  ten  and  Rivers  nine.'  The 
latter  had  still  one  for  the  hole  and 
match  (for  Traphagen  was  not  yet 
down),  but  the  chance  was  of  the  slim 
mest.  Rivers's  ball,  as  I  have  said,  was 
185 


THE    LOST    BALL 

twenty  yards  from  the  green,  and  it 
looked  as  though  nothing  short  of  a 
dynamite  cartridge  could  dislodge  it. 
Perhaps,  if  fortune  favored  him,  he 
might  possibly  play  out  to  the  edge  of 
the  green,  and  then  with  a  long  and 
lucky  putt  for  a  half — but  oh,  those  ifs  ! 

"Well,  I  couldn't  help  admiring  Riv 
ers  as  he  pulled  himself  together  for 
this  last  forlorn  hope.  He  was  indeed 
a  man  among  men,  and  would  die  game. 

"  His  face  was  firm  and  set  as  he  took 
his  stance  and  played.  Mirabilc  dictu  ! 
the  ball  popped  up  out  of  that  hopeless 
pocket,  sailed  in  a  gentle  curve  to  the 
green,  ran  over  it  to  the  hole,  and  dis 
appeared  down  the  cup.  It  was  the  one 
shot  out  of  a  thousand  years  of  golf, 
and,  as  though  moved  by  a  common 
impulse  of  reverence,  every  man  pulled 
off  his  hat  and  bowed  his  head  in  si 
lence.  Rivers  was  down  in  ten,  winning 
match  and  hole  by  one  stroke.  The 
eighth  wonder  of  the  world  had  actually 
occurred  right  here  on  the  home  green 

1 86 


THE    LOST    BALL 

of  the  Marion  County  Golf  Club.  It 
was  intoxicating,  miraculous,  sublime. 

"  It  was  Traphagen  who  first  recovered 
his  senses.  What  a  cool,  wary,  calculat 
ing,  cold-blooded  demon  that  man  real 
ly  was  at  heart !  I  blushed  for  my  sex 
as  he  began  to  speak. 

" '  Before  the  match  is  awarded  to  Mr. 
Rivers,'  said  this  scurvy  fellow,  '  I  should 
like  to  call  your  attention,  Mr.  Referee, 
to  the  following  memoranda  of  the 
play  for  this  last  hole.  According  to 
my  notes,  whose  correctness  will  be 
vouched  for  by  McPherson,  my  caddie, 
Mr.  Rivers  teed  a  Henley  ball  for  his 
drive.  He  made  his  second  shot  with  a 
Silvertown,  and  used  an  O.  K.  for  his 
third.  The  fourth,  fifth,  sixth,  and 
seventh  were  made  respectively  with  a 
Thornton,  a  Woodley  Flier,  a  Mclfort, 
and  a  Tom  Morris,  and  I  dare  say  that 
the  one  now  in  the  cup  is  of  still  another 
make,  possibly  a  Mussclbiirgli,  I  submit 
that  Mr.  Rivers  has  lost  at  least  half  a 
dozen  balls  in  playing  the  hole,  and  I 
is? 


THE    LOST    BALL 

therefore  claim  hole  and  match,  accord 
ing  to  the  rules  of  golf." 

"  Gracious  heavens  !  Rivers  had  plain 
ly  neglected  the  obvious  precaution  of 
providing  himself  with  only  one  make 
of  balls,  and  his  folly  made  the  proof  of 
the  harmless  deception  only  too  easy. 
This,  then,  explained  the  careful  exami 
nation  that  Traphagen  had  made  of  his 
adversary's  ball  before  each  shot.  No 
doubt  he  was  right,  but  how  contempti 
ble  this  underhand,  cowardly  espionage 
seemed  now  in  the  light  of  that  last  brill 
iant,  glorious  stroke  by  which  Rivers 
had  redeemed  himself !  My  decision 
was  quickly  made  ;  I  would  not  allow 
low  cunning  to  triumph  over  genius.  I 
briefly  pointed  out  that  objections  of  this 
nature  must  be  made  immediately  upon 
the  discovery  of  the  offence.  Had  Mr. 
Traphagen  called  my  attention  at  the 
time  to  any  one  of  these  surreptitious 
ly  introduced  balls,  I  should,  of  course, 
have  awarded  him  the  match.  But 
there  could  be  no  ex  post  facto  evidence 

188 


THE    LOST    BALL 

introduced.  By  his  previous  silence  the 
plaintiff  had  lost  his  right  to  protest. 

" '  But  that  last  ball  that  Mr.  Rivers 
played  was  a  spare  one  of  my  own,'  said 
Traphagen,  with  suppressed  fury;  'a 
Musselburgh,  stamped  with  my  initials. 
I  dropped  it  myself  in  the  hazard.' 

"  *  Then  you  gave  the  misinformation 
yourself,'  I  retorted,  calmly,  'and  by 
Rule  27  Mr.  Rivers  cannot  be  held  re 
sponsible.  The  ball  now  in  the  hole 
wins  the  match  for  the  player  who  put 
it  there,  and  it  is  the  only  evidence  that 
I  can  accept.' 

"And  then,  if  you  will  believe  it,  a 
doubt,  sudden,  horrible,  sickening,  came 
over  me.  I  ran  to  the  cup  and  looked 
in.  The  hole  was  empty ;  the  ball  had- 
disappeared. 

"  That  settled  it,  of  course.  It  made 
no  difference  that  we  had  all  distinctly 
seen  the  ball  as  it  ran  into  the  hole.  It 
certainly  was  not  there  now,  and  the 
absolute  proof  was  wanting  that  it  had 
ever  really  been  there.  It  was  a  fitting 
189 


THE    LOST    BALL 

denouement  to  the  extraordinary  inci 
dents  of  an  extraordinary  match.  I 
could  not  go  back  upon  my  own  words, 
and  with  a  heavy  heart  I  formally 
awarded  the  match  to  Traphagen.  Just 
then  I  noticed  that  Mrs.  Chase  had  dis 
appeared.  She  had  vanished  as  com 
pletely  as  the  lost  ball.  Was  it  a  coin 
cidence  ? 

"  I  saw  Traphagen  take  Rivers  to  one 
side  and  slip  a  roll  of  bills  into  his  hand. 
His  triumphant  expression  was  inde 
scribably  odious  to  me,  and  my  heart 
went  out  to  Rivers.  The  latter  turned 
away  to  his  trap  without  a  word,  and 
I  followed  and  jumped  in  with  him.  I 
would  stick  by  him  to  the  last. 

"  On  the  way  to  the  station  Rivers 
told  me  briefly  of  the  real  nature  of  the 
wager  that  had  been  at  stake.  I  could 
but  press  his  hand  in  silent  sympathy. 
Of  Mrs.  Chase  I  would  not  trust  myself 
to  speak. 

"  We  drove  up  to  the  station,  and  the 
hackman  shouldered  Rivers's  portman- 
190 


AND    THERE    STOOD    MRS.  EDNA    SEVERN   CHASE 


THE    LOST    BALL 

teau  —  each  man,  you  see,  had  been 
obliged  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
worst.  In  silence  we  entered  the 
dreary,  ill  -  lighted  waiting  -  room,  and 
there  stood  Mrs.  Edna  Severn  Chase, 
looking  particularly  fit  in  her  neat  trav 
elling-suit,  and  behind  her  the  effulgent 
face  of  old  Judge  Brown,  justice  of  the 
peace  for  Marion  County. 

"'We  have  just  five  minutes  before 
the  train  is  due,'  remarked  Mrs.  Chase, 
coolly,  'and  so,  Mr.  Rivers,  if  you  are 
still  of  the  same  mind,  and  would  like 
to  have  me  accompany  you,  Mr.  Brown 
is  ready  to  oblige.  And,  by-the-way,' 
turning  to  me  and  holding  out  a  small 
round  object,  '  you  might  give  this  to 
Mr.  Traphagen,  with  my  compliments.' 
I  took  it,  and  it  was  a  Mussclburgh  golf- 
ball  stamped  with  the  initials  J.  T. 

"  '  Then  it  was  you — you — '  stammer 
ed  Rivers. 

u  '  Certainly.     I  took  it  out  of  the  hole 
and  carried  it  away  while  you  all  were 
disputing  over  those  stupid  rules.' 
191 


THE    LOST    BALL 

"  '  But  I  don't  see  yet — '  began  Rivers. 

"  *  Why,  you  foolish  boy,  if  you  hadn't 
lost  the  match  we  shouldn't  have  had 
Mr.  Traphagen's  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  upon  which  to  enjoy  a  wedding- 
trip.  You  haven't  the  most  distant  no 
tions  about  economy.  Do  be  reasonable, 
and  if  you  really  want  me — ' 

"Well,  I  could  have  married  her  my 
self  at  that  instant,  she  looked  so  adora 
ble,  and  Rivers  at  last  managed  to  rise 
to  the  situation.  Justice  Brown  tied  the 
knot  with  his  accustomed  skill,  and  then 
the  north-bound  express  thundered  in, 
and  I  helped  the  bride  up  the  steps  of 
the  sleeping-car,  and  stood  alone  watch 
ing  the  red  end -lights  as  they  disap 
peared  in  the  darkness." 

The  Ancient  stopped,  and  pulled  re 
flectively  at  his  pipe.  The  Man-in-tJic- 
Corncr  spoke  up  : 

"What  did  Mr.  James  Traphagen  say 
when  you  gave  him  the  ball  ?" 

"What  did  he  say?  What  did  he 
say?"  snorted  the  Ancient.  "I  don't 
192 


THIS   IS  ALL  ON   ME'" 


THE     LOST     BALL 

think  that  you  ought  to  ask  such  a 
question,  young  man.  His  language 
was  not  intended  for  publication.  But 
I'll  tell  you  what  he  did.  He  took  his 
Philp  putter,  the  only  genuine  one  that 
ever  came  to  this  country,  went  out  on 
the  railway  embankment,  and  bashed 
rock  ballast  with  it  all  afternoon.  But 
perhaps  it  was  just  as  well,  for  other 
wise  he  might  have  exploded  in  here 
and  damaged  the  club-house." 

"This  is  all  on  me,"  said  the  Man-in- 
tlie  -  Corner,  softly,  as  Peter  came  in 
with  the  order-card. 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 


"No  such  thing  as  the  prime  great  se 
cret,  eh  ?" 

It  was  the  Silent  Member  who  spoke, 
a  rare  occurrence  in  itself  and  one 
to  command  attention,  but  there  was 
something  more  than  mere  words  in  the 
sentence  that  has  just  been  recorded. 
The  Fiend  hastened  to  take  up  the  chal 
lenge. 

"No,  sir;  the  prime  great  secret  is 
but  the  baseless  fable  of  a  duffer's 
dream,  our  twentieth  -  century  substi 
tute  for  the  philosopher's  stone,  and 
equally  elusive  and  unsubstantial.  Golf, 
with  all  things  else  in  nature,  has  its 
fixed  laws,  its  immutable  limitations — " 
197 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

"  Most  assuredly,"  retorted  the  Silent 
Member;  "I  have  watched  your  game 
long  enough  to  know  that.  Limitations, 
indeed  !  As  it  happens,  your  particular 
golfing  cult  is  founded  upon  Sir  Walter 
Simpson's  'categorical  imperative,'  and 
'  hitting  the  ball '  is  the  sum  and  sub 
stance  of  all  your  efforts.  Given  that 
as  a  premise  and  we  arrive,  through 
process  of  logic,  at  the  following  beauti 
ful  paradox  :  the  oftener  the  ball  is  hit, 
the  fewer  strokes  it  will  take  to  do  the 
round.  For  a  concrete  illustration  we 
will  examine  your  score  -  card  for  last 
Saturday's  medal  play." 

The  Silent  Member  walked  over  to  the 
bulletin-board.  "  Here  it  is,"  he  went  on. 
"  You  hit  the  ball  on  that  occasion  no 
fewer  than  one  hundred  and  thirty-sev 
en  times.  Now  what  does  that  prove?" 

"  Nothing,"  growled  the  Fiend.  "  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  I  broke  my 
play-club  at  the  third  hole." 

"  But  you  continued  to  hit  the  ball," 
persisted  the  Silent  Member. 
198 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

"  Of  course  I  did,"  roared  the  Fiend, 
goaded  to  madness  under  this  indecent 
application  of  the  argumciitum  ad  homi- 
ncm,  "  but  somehow  the  confounded 
thing  wouldn't  go." 

"  Precisely.  Then  you  must  acknowl 
edge  that  there  is  something  in  how 
you  hit  the  ball  if  it  is  to  go." 

"Well,  and  what  then?" 

"  Oh,  that  how  is  the  prime  great 
secret." 

"Indeed,"  sneered  the  Fiend.  "Pos 
sibly  you  speak  from  the  vantage- 
ground  of  a  personal  experience." 

The  Silent  Member  smiled,  but  there 
was  an  infinite  sadness  in  the  lines 
about  his  mouth.  "  I  do,"  he  said,  sim 
ply.  Then  he  opened  the  door  and 
went  out. 

For  some  moments  nobody  spoke. 
The  tremendous  significance  of  the  Si 
lent  Member's  categorical  affirmation 
was  more  than  overwhelming  ;  it  was 
paralyzing.  And  that  last  look  in  his 
eyes  as  he  turned  and  closed  the  door  ! 
199 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

There  was  a  despair  in  it,  a  freezing 
hopelessness,  that  was  almost  physical 
in  its  effects  upon  those  who  encoun 
tered  it.  Robinson  Brown  actually  shiv 
ered  and  his  chair  creaked  noisily  as  he 
leaned  forward  and  held  his  hands  close 
above  the  crackling  logs. 

Woodehouse  was  the  first  to  recover 
himself.  "What  rot  !"  he  remarked, 
sententiously. 

"Why,  the  old  man,  to  my  certain 
knowledge,  has  never  had  a  club  in  his 
hand,"  put  in  Egerton,  "  and  I've  been  a 
member  here  for  fifteen  years.  How 
about  it,  Ancient  ?" 

"  He  was  one  of  the  charter  mem 
bers,"  returned  the  Oracle,  placidly, 
"  and  dates  back  to  '93  or  thereabouts." 

"A  quarter  of  a  century,  then,"  said 
the  Fiend,  making  a  rapid  mental  calcu 
lation.  "  That's  a  long  time  to  live 
without  playing  golf.  I  always  thought 
that  there  was  something  uncanny 
about  the  man." 

"  It's  equivalent  to  a  stroke  or  hole  to 

200 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

have  him  in  the  gallery,"  said  Robinson 
Brown,  decidedly.  "  I  can't  play  a  little 
bit  if  I  see  him  looking  on.  He  always 
seems  to  know  what  a  fellow  ought  not 
to  do,  just  before  he  goes  and  does  it." 

The  impressiveness  of  this  concluding 
statement  was  somewhat  marred  by  its 
lack  of  lucidity,  and  only  Mr.  Brown's 
fellow-members  in  Class  C  appeared  able 
to  grapple  with  its  subtle  significance. 
They  beamed  complacently  upon  each 
other  and  interchanged  unutterable 
winks.  Evidently  there  is  a  secret  un 
derstanding  among  duffers. 

"  It  isn't  hypnotism,  either,"  remarked 
Alderson,  thoughtfully.  "  He  doesn't 
try  to  interfere  in  any  way  with  a  man's 
play,  but  there  is  something  in  that  se 
rene,  immovable,  omniscient  gaze  of  his 
that  is  absolutely  fatal  to  my  holing- 
out.  It  makes  me  feel  as  though  I  were 
about  to  read  a  paper  at  the  Twilight 
Club  upon  the  mistakes  in  the  Penta 
teuch,  and  had  suddenly  looked  up  and 
recognized  Moses  sitting  by  the  door." 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

*'  Well,  in  my  opinion,"  interrupted 
the  Fiend,  warmly,  "  it's  most  confound 
edly  impertinent  of  him.  For  a  man 
who,  as  the  Ancient  said,  has  been  a 
member  here  for  twenty  -  five  years 
and  has  never  had  a  club  in  his  hand — " 

"  But  I  never  said  any  such  thing," 
interrupted  the  Ancient,  in  his  turn. 
"  If  you'll  look  back  over  the  records 
you'll  see  his  name  often  enough.  Madi 
son  Grimshaw,  captain  of  the  club  from 
1893  to  1899 ;  third  man  at  the  open 
meeting  in  1896  ;  runner-up  at  Chicago 
in  1897;  six  open -tournament  cups  in 
1898,  and  the  silver  medal  at  the  ama 
teur  championship,  same  year  ;  drawn 
against  Elphinstone  of  Peconic  in  the 
amateur  finals  of  1899,  and  withdrew — 
there  the  record  stops." 

"  Well,  of  all  things  !"  and  the  Fiend 
drew  in  his  breath  sharply.  "  M.  Grim 
shaw,  our  Silent  Member,  he  the  Madi 
son  Grimshaw  of  those  six  glorious 
years,  the  golden  age  of  the  Marion 
County  Club  !  You  can't  mean  it  ?" 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

"  But  I  do  ;  he  is  Madison  Grimshaw." 

"  But— but  I  thought— that  is,  I  al 
ways  understood — there  was  a  catastro 
phe,  something  tragic — went  under  in  a 
big  match,  didn't  he?  Apoplexy,  or 
perhaps  it  was  collapse.  All  the  papers 
were  full  of  it.  I  can  just  remember 
the  excitement  in  the  air." 

"  If  you  want  the  truth  about  it," 
said  the  Ancient,  slowly,  "it  was  simply 
a  case  of  too  much  prime  great  secret." 

"  Then  there  is  such  a  thing  ?" 

"  Unquestionably." 

"  And  Grimshaw  possessed  it  ?" 

"  Without  a  doubt ;  and  he  has  it 
still  ?" 

"  But — but  he  never  uses  it." 

"  He  never  did  use  it  but  once,  and 
that  is  just  where  the  story  comes  in." 

"  Fire  away,"  said  the  Fiend,  with  an 
air  of  tolerant  scepticism.  "  Of  course 
you  won't  expect  us  to  believe  the  fairy 
tale?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  retorted  the  Ancient. 
"  I  don't  expect  anything  of  a  man  who 
203 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

tees  his  ball  in  a  bunker,  and  yet  has 
never  done  the  course  under  triple  fig 
ures.  Let  me  say,  however,  that  I  sim 
ply  propose  to  state  the  facts,  and  not 
to  comment  upon  them.  Have  I  the 
floor?" 

The  privilege  was  immediately  ac 
corded,  and  the  Fiend,  under  threat  of 
being  gagged  with  an  old  ball  if  he  vent 
ured  upon  any  interruption,  retired  to 
a  distant  corner  and  affected  to  busy 
himself  with  the  Golfing  Annual.  But 
Woodehouse  kept  an  eye  upon  him  ; 
there  is  jealousy  even  among  the 
wretched  duffers  of  Class  C,  and  he  sus 
pected  that  the  Fiend  was  hardly  so  in 
different  as  his  actions  would  imply. 
One  may  smile  at  the  idea  of  a  prime 
great  secret  in  golf,  and  yet  be  a  villain. 

"  As  I  have  said,"  began  the  old  gen 
tleman,  "our  Grimshaw  was  indeed  the 
Grimshaw  of  glorious  memory,  and  the 
crack  amateur  of  his  day.  It  was  re 
markable  how  quickly  he  picked  up 
the  game,  and  since  to  natural  genius 
204 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

he  added  an  infinite  capacity  for  tak 
ing  pains,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  was 
soon  at  the  top  of  the  tree.  In  Grim- 
shaw  the  Marion  County  Club  had  de 
veloped  a  really  first -class  man,  and 
when  the  amateur  championship  meet 
ing  for  1899  was  awarded  to  us,  we  all 
felt  confident  that  our  champion  had 
more  than  an  even  chance  to  win  out. 

"Well,  at  the  end  of  the  second  day's 
play  it  was  pretty  plain  that  the  contest 
for  the  gold  medal  lay  between  Grim- 
shaw  and  McLeod,  an  ex-Hoylake  player 
and  short -odds  man.  It  was  the  old 
story  of  native  skill  against  imported 
talent,  and  for  the  first  time  the  chances 
seemed  to  be  slightly  in  our  favor.  The 
luck  of  the  draw  kept  the  men  apart 
until  the  semi-finals,  when  they  were 
paired  against  each  other;  the  second 
couple  being  Elphinstone  of  Peconic 
and  Hawley  of  Rollwood.  Both  El 
phinstone  and  Hawley  were  decidedly 
second-string  men,  who  had  managed 
to  pull  off  their  earlier  matches  through 
205 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

technical  rulings,  aided  by  unexpected 
reversals  in  form  on  the  part  of  their 
opponents.  It  was  a  foregone  conclu 
sion  that  the  survivor  of  the  Grimshaw- 
McLeod  match  would  be  the  amateur 
champion  of  1899,  and  the  interest  con 
sequently  centred  upon  that  contest. 
And  upon  the  form  already  shown 
Grimshaw  had  been  backed  to  win. 

"  Now  I  had  been  carrying  for  Grim 
shaw.  He  had  great  confidence  in  my 
judgment,  although  I  was  by  no  means 
a  crack  in  actual  performance,  and  he 
had  the  idea  that  I  could  steady  him  at 
a  crisis  better  than  anybody  else,  profes 
sional  or  what  not.  Of  course  I  was  do 
ing  my  best  to  pull  him  through,  both 
out  of  club  loyalty  and  from  personal 
friendship. 

"  The  match  in  the  third  round  was  a 
win  for  Grimshaw  by  five  up  and  four 
to  play,  which  looked  very  fair  on  pa 
per,  McLeod  being  a  strong  player,  but 
somehow  I  fancied  that  the  strain  of  the 
tournament  was  beginning  to  tell  upon 
206 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

my  man.  There  were  little  signs  of 
weakness  and  indecision  in  his  play, 
indicating  that  something  was  wrong. 
Of  course  it  might  be  merely  a  tempo 
rary  falling  off,  but  I  began  to  feel  a  bit 
anxious.  Naturally  I  kept  my  misgiv 
ings  to  myself  ;  it  would  have  been  mad 
ness  to  even  hint  at  them  to  Grimshaw. 
"I  had  been  spending  the  tournament 
week  at  Grimshaw's  house,  and  on  that 
particular  Thursday  night  he  had  gone 
up-stairs  at  an  early  hour,  presumably 
bound  for  bed.  A  long  night's  rest  was 
exactly  what  he  needed,  and  I  was  con 
sequently  annoyed  when  I  came  up,  a 
couple  of  hours  later,  to  notice  that  a 
light  was  still  burning  in  his  bedroom. 
I  knocked  and  then  entered,  without 
waiting  for  an  answer.  The  room  and 
bed  were  empty.  I  glanced  over  at  the 
corner  where  he  kept  his  clubs,  and — 
merciful  heavens  ! — the  bag  was  gone. 
What  insanity  of  folly  was  this  ?  Mid 
night  practice  before  a  crucial  match  ! 
We  were  lost  indeed  ;  I  knew  the  match 
207 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

was  McLeod's  as  surely  as  though  I  had 
seen  it  posted  upon  the  bulletin-board. 
I  sank  into  a  chair,  crushed,  broken 
hearted.  It  was  now  half-past  twelve. 

"The  clock  struck  one,  the  door 
opened,  and  Grimshaw  stood  before  me. 
I  could  hardly  believe  my  senses.  There 
was  a  new  light  in  his  eyes  and  an  as 
sured  smile  upon  his  lips  that  made 
him  look  like  the  Grimshaw  of  old ; 
something  had  happened  to  restore  his 
moral  tone,  some  miracle  had  given  him 
back  his  pristine  confidence  in  himself. 
I  waited  for  the  explanation. 

"  Grimshaw  placed  his  bag  of  clubs  in 
the  corner,  sat  down  opposite  to  me, 
and  prepared  to  light  a  cigarette.  Cigar 
ettes  ! — the  rankest  of  poisons  to  a  man 
of  his  temperament.  I  looked  my  black 
est  disapproval. 

"  '  Go  easy,  old  man,'  he  began,  coolly. 
'  It's  all  right  ;  everything  is  all  right, 
for  I  have  the  prime  great  secret,  direct 
from  Col.  Bogey  himself.  I  got  it  at  the 
thirteenth  hole  not  half  an  hour  ago.'  ' 
208 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

"  Worse  and  worse  !  if  this  were  really 
the  explanation  of  his  altered  demeanor. 
Poor  fellow  !  it  was  only  too  evident 
that  his  mind  was  giving  way  under  the 
awful  strain  of  the  tournament.  Ah, 
this  Juggernaut  of  golf  ! 

"  '  You  don't  believe  me,'  said  Grim- 
shaw,  looking  at  me  steadily.  *  Well, 
what  do  you  make  of  that  ?'  and  he  put 
into  my  hand  a  small  round  object." 

The  Ancient  stopped,  and,  fumbling  in 
his  waistcoat  pocket,  produced  a  wood 
en  box,  which  he  solemnly  handed  to 
Alderson  for  inspection.  It  went  from 
hand  to  hand  around  the  circle,  and 
Woodehouse  examined  it  with  espe 
cial  interest.  In  shape  it  resembled  a 
pill-box,  and  it  was  made  of  some  for 
eign-looking,  close-grained  wood,  very 
dark  in  color  and  highly  polished.  Upon 
the  lid  was  a  couplet  in  black-letter,  and 
Woodehouse  slowly  spelled  it  out : 

" '  Once  for  far  and  once  for  sure, 

And  once  for  what  is  past  alle  cure.' " 
o  209 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

The  Ancient  reached  for  the  box, 
dropped  it  carelessly  into  an  outside 
pocket,  and  resumed  his  story. 

" '  Open  it,'  said  Grimshaw. 

"  I  did  so,  and  saw  that  it  contained  a 
curious-looking  paste,  or  rather  salve. 
It  had  an  aromatic  odor,  not  unpleas 
ant,  but  quite  unknown  to  me.  Part 
of  the  contents  had  been  used,  and 
now  I  could  detect  that  same  pecul 
iar  odor  hanging  about  Grimshaw  him 
self. 

" '  Well  ?'  and  I  looked  at  him  expect 
antly. 

"  '  I  may  as  well  tell  the  whole  truth,' 
he  blurted  out.  '  But  first  look  at  this,' 
and  he  handed  me  a  parchment-bound 
volume  evidently  of  great  age.  It  was 
in  black  -  letter,  and  purported  to  be 
a  treatise  on  Black  Magic,  printed  at 
Leyden  in  1527  by  Carolus  Nuyse,  for 
Magister  Claudius  Paraloubomatos,  of 
the  Academy  of  Universal  Science. 

"'What  nonsense  is  this?'  I  said, 
frowningly. 

210 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

' '  Read,'  said  Grimshaw,  pointing  to 
a  marked  paragraph. 

" '  Lette  duffers  toppe  and  duffers  sclaffe, 
The  prime  greate  secret  of  the  gowffe, 
The  Bogey-Manne  shalle  give  the  wight 
Who  dares  to  playe,  on  moonless  night, 

"'The  Thirteen  Hole  from  greene  to  tee; 
A  deede  of  darkeness  foul,  pardie. 
So  once  for  far  and  once  for  sure, 
And  once  for  what  is  past  alle  cure.' 

"  I  lost  my  patience  completely  at 
this  gibberish,  and,  shutting  the  book 
with  a  bang,  I  told  Grimshaw  plainly 
that  if  he  did  not  instantly  throw  away 
that  cigarette  and  go  to  bed  he  would 
have  to  find  some  one  else  to  carry  for 
him  on  the  morrow.  He  listened  to  me 
exactly  as  though  I  were  some  fractious 
child  who  had  to  be  coaxed  into  good- 
humor,  and  then  said,  quietly  : 

"  *  Just  as  you  please,  old  man.  I  ab 
solve  you  from  all  responsibility  ;  but 
you  have  got  to  hear  the  story,  and  you 
may  as  well  resign  yourself.  Come  in.' 

211 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

"  There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
his  man  Pollock  entered,  bearing  a  sup 
per-tray.  I  groaned  aloud.  Welsh  rare 
bits  and  grilled  bones  !  Well,  nothing 
could  matter  now,  and  as  I  am  very 
fond  of  a  bone  I  resumed  my  seat  and 
held  out  my  plate. 

"  '  When  I  came  up-stairs  this  evening,' 
began  Grimshaw,  '  I  had  every  inten 
tion  of  going  to  bed  at  once,  and  in  fact 
I  did  get  half  undressed.  But  I  soon 
discovered  that  I  was  too  unstrung  to 
hope  for  sleep  ;  that  infernal  match  with 
McLeod  kept  getting  on  my  nerves, 
and  I  knew  as  certainly  as  I  am  sitting 
here  that  I  would  go  to  pieces  to-mor 
row  ;  I  was  a  beaten  man  before  the 
match.  In  desperation  I  pulled  a  chair 
before  the  fire,  took  down  at  random  a 
book  from  the  case,  and  determined  to 
distract  my  mind,  if  such  a  thing  were 
possible,  by  an  hour  of  hard  reading. 
The  book  was  this  curious  old  volume 
that  I  had  picked  up  at  a  Seine  book 
stall  last  summer,  and  of  course  the  first 

212 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

thing  I  saw  was  the  doggerel  verse  that 
you  have  just  read.  The  prime  great 
secret  !  Could  there  really  be  such  a 
thing  ?  and  then  that  odd  fancy  of  play 
ing  the  thirteenth  hole  backwards  on  a 
moonless  night  !  Somehow  the  ridicu 
lous  old  formula  so  gravely  set  down  by 
the  learned  Magister  Claudius  Paralou- 
bomatos  began  to  take  hold  of  my  im 
agination.  And  then  desperate  cases — 
you  know  the  old  saying.  I  was  more 
excited  now  than  ever,  and  with  that 
jingle  ringing  in  my  ears  I  would  not 
stop  to  reason  with  myself.  The  al 
manac  told  me  that  the  moon  would 
be  down  ;  my  bicycle  was  in  the  stable ; 
you  fellows  were  making  such  a  row  in 
the  billiard-room  that  it  was  an  easy 
matter  to  get  out  of  the  house  without 
being  overheard,  and  before  I  knew  it  I 
was  on  my  way  to  the  golf  club. 

"'The  course  was   entirely  deserted, 

but  the  night  was  not  absolutely  dark, 

and   I   had  no  difficulty  in  making  my 

way  to  the  fateful  thirteenth  hole.      I 

213 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

threw  down  a  ball  upon  McPherson's  pre 
cious  turf  and  took  my  brassey.  Then 
for  the  moment  my  courage  failed  me. 
To  drive  a  ball  off  a  putting-green  !  It 
was  an  act  akin  to  sacrilege,  and  my 
knees  knocked  together  with  horror  at 
the  unholy  deed.  And  then  some  fiend 
whispered  McLeod's  name  in  my  ear, 
and  my  nerves  grew  steady  again.  You 
know  how  I  loathe  the  beast ;  let  me  be 
eternally  bunkered  now  but  I  would 
play  out  this  devil's  game  to  the  last 
stroke. 

' '  I  brought  the  brassey  down  with  a 
vicious  jab  that  left  a  horrible  howk 
upon  the  velvet  surface  of  the  green. 
But  I  only  laughed  aloud,  and  followed 
after  the  ball  with  a  light-hearted  reck 
lessness  that  henceforth  would  stop  at 
nothing.  I  even  hummed  a  tune  as  I 
prepared  to  take  my  second. 

"'As   you  know,  the  thirteenth   is  a 

short  hole  and  the  Shcol  bunker  is  some 

fifty  yards  in  front  of  the  tee.    As  I  was 

playing   the   hole   backwards,  I  was,  of 

214 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

course,  approaching  the  bunker  from 
behind — going  into  Sheol  by  the  back 
door,  as  it  were.  I  did  my  best  to  clear 
the  hazard,  but  topped,  and  the  ball 
rolled  up  close  against  the  bunker,  a 
duffer  shot  that  annoyed  me  exceeding 
ly.  I  went  to  where  the  ball  had  struck, 
but  it  was  not  to  be  seen.  But  right 
there,  on  the  edge  of  the  bunker's 
cliff,  was  that  small  box,  together  with 
what  appeared  to  be  a  gentleman's  vis 
iting-card.  I  picked  up  the  latter,  and 
immediately  dropped  it  with  a  yell,  for 
it  was  white  -  hot.  The  turf  actually 
sizzled  where  it  fell,  and  a  light  smoke 
arose  as  the  card  slowly  curled  up  and 
resolved  itself  into  ashes.  But  in  the 
mean  time  I  had  been  able  to  make 
out  the  writing  upon  it  :  "  The  Prime 
Great  Secret,  with  the  compliments  of 
Colonel  Bogey.  Use  only  as  directed" 

"  '  The   box    was   warm,  but  not   un 
pleasantly  so,  and  on  opening  it  I  found 
it  full  of  the  strange  ointment  that  you 
have  already  seen.     Evidently  it  was  to 
215 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

be  rubbed  in  somewhere,  and,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  I  bared  my  left 
arm  and  applied  a  small  portion.  It 
had  an  immediate  and  astonishing  ef 
fect.  The  muscles  and  tendons  of  my 
arm  felt  as  though  they  had  been  sud 
denly  endowed  with  new  vigor  and  elas 
ticity.  I  had  the  strength  of  a  Samson 
in  that  left  arm,  and  on  putting  it  to  a 
practical  test  I  was  amazed  to  see  how 
far  I  could  now  drive  a  ball.  Two,  three 
hundred  yards  were  as  nothing ;  endowed 
with  this  supernatural  strength  I  would 
not  be  afraid  to  measure  clubs  with 
Jehu  himself. 

'  This  was  all  very  well,  but  I  soon 
noticed  that  my  shots  were  hardly  so 
straight  as  they  were  far,  and  that  my 
short  game  left  much  to  be  desired. 
Struck  by  a  new  thought,  I  read  again 
the  couplet  upon  the  box  lid.  "Once 
for  far  and  once  for  sure " — yes,  that 
was  it ;  I  must  make  a  second  applica 
tion  of  the  salve  if  I  desired  the  equally 
important  secret  of  unfailing  accuracy. 
216 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

This  time  I  anointed  my  right  arm, 
the  one  that  guides  the  club,  and  I  was 
delighted  to  find  that  now  I  was  as  sure 
as  I  had  been  far.  Straight  as  an  arrow 
flew  every  drive  ;  my  quarter-shots  had 
just  the  right  pitch  and  cut  ;  and  my 
putting  was  invariably  up  and  straight. 
Far  and  sure  :  what  more  could  be  de 
sired  ?  /  had  the  prime  great  secret.  I 
tried  a  few  more  shots  simply  to  assure 
myself  of  the  reality  of  my  good  for 
tune,  and  then,  gathering  up  my  clubs, 
I  started  for  home,  and  here  I  am.' 

"  I  was  about  to  speak,  but  Grimshaw 
stopped  me. 

"'There  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
discussing  this  remarkable  occurrence,' 
he  said,  airily.  '  But  you  can  rest  as 
sured  that  I  am  going  to  beat  McLcod 
out  in  the  semi-finals,  and  in  the  mean 
time  I'm  off  to  bed.  Hello  !  half-past 
one !  Well,  good  -  night,  and  tell  the 
boys  that"  they  can  back  me  to  the 
limit.' 

"  Grimshaw  rose,  yawned,  threw  away 
217 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

his  cigarette,  walked  over  to  the  alcove, 
and  disappeared  behind  the  curtains. 
I  could  hear  him  throw  off  his  clothes 
and  jump  into  bed.  In  ten  minutes 
more  he  was  breathing  regularly,  and, 
looking  in,  I  could  see  that  he  was  sleep 
ing  as  peacefully  as  any  child. 

"Well,  what  was  I  to  make  of  this 
cock  -  and  -  bull  story  ?  It  was  no  use 
puzzling  my  brains  over  it  ;  the  fact  re 
mained  that  Grimshaw,  in  some  inex 
plicable  manner,  had  recovered  his  lost 
nerve  and  old-time  confidence  in  him 
self.  He  now  believed  that  he  could 
beat  McLeod,  and  that  was  the  all- 
important  point.  And  so,  with  some  of 
his  new-born  confidence  insensibly  com 
municated  to  my  own  mind,  I  in  turn 
retired  to  rest. 

"As  to  the  semi-finals,  I  need  only 
say  that  Grimshaw's  play  was  superb, 
and  that  he  beat  McLeod  at  that  same 
thirteenth  hole  by  six  up  and  five  to 
play.  As  we  came  up  to  the  green  I  no 
ticed  with  a  shiver  a  long  jagged  skelp 
218 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

upon  its  smooth  surface.  It  was  a  cruel, 
gaping  wound,  and  to  my  excited  imag 
ination  it  had  the  appearance  of  evil 
lips  parted  into  a  mocking  and  hateful 
smile.  There  was  something  appalling 
ly  sinister  in  that  diabolical  grin,  some 
thing  unearthly,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the 
expression,  and  I  felt  decidedly  uncom 
fortable  and  even  a  bit  shaky  about  the 
knees.  But  Grimshaw  only  winked  at 
me,  and  suggested  to  the  chairman  of 
the  Green  Committee  that  McPherson, 
the  green-keeper,  was  in  urgent  need  of 
a  sound  wigging. 

"  Elphinstone  beat  his  man,  and  this 
left  him  in  the  finals  with  Grimshaw  on 
Saturday.  There  could  be  no  earthly 
doubt  of  the  result,  so  we  celebrated  the 
discounted  victory  in  the  club-house 
that  same  night.  Grimshaw  was  the 
hero  of  the  occasion,  and  we  were  all 
wildly  enthusiastic  over  the  anticipated 
triumph.  There  were  actually  some 
wagers  laid  that  Grimshaw  would  win 
without  losing  a  single  hole,  and  El- 
219 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

phinstone  was  so  admittedly  outclassed 
that  his  friends  were  privately  urging 
his  withdrawal.  But  he  was  an  obsti 
nate  fellow,  and  insisted  upon  playing  it 
out.  Plucky  but  foolish,  we  thought 
him. 

"The  contestants  were  to  drive  off 
for  the  thirty  -  six  -  hole  match  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  although  there  could  be  but 
little  interest  in  the  match  itself,  the 
'  gallery '  was  fully  as  large  as  ever,  it 
having  been  noised  about  that  Grim- 
shaw  was  to  try  and  make  a  new  record 
for  the  course.  The  hour  came,  and  I 
went  into  the  dressing-room  to  call  him. 
I  found  him  standing  at  the  window 
with  his  sleeves  rolled  up  and  the  mys 
terious  box  in  his  hand.  He  greeted 
me  with  a  smile,  and  said,  cheerfully, 
'  Just  another  touch  of  this  divine  stuff 
and  I  think  I  can  get  down  to  seventy- 
two  for  the  first  round.' 

"'Hold  on,'  I  said,  taking  the  box 
from  him.  '  Better  leave  well  enough 
alone.' 

220 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

"  *  Nonsense  !  What  possible  harm 
can  it  do  ?  I  have  the  prime  great  se 
cret,  my  boy,  and  I  intend  to  smash 
that  record  into  infinitesimal  bits.  The 
prime  great  secret  !  Ha  !  ha  !'  and  he 
hummed  gayly, 

"  '  Once  for  far  and  once  for  sure, 
And  once  for  what  is  past  alle  cure.' 

"  He  put  out  his  hand  for  the  fatal 
box. 

" '  Grimshaw,  you  fool,'  I  almost 
shouted,  '  don't  you  see  the  warning 
in  those  very  words?  If  the  doggerel 
means  anything  at  all,  you  will  repent 
it  if  you  apply  the  ointment  the  third 
time.  Don't  you  remember  the  story 
in  the  Arabian  Niglits  of  the  covetous 
Baba  Abdalla  and  the  magic  salve  that 
the  dervish  gave  him  ?  The  application 
to  his  right  eye  revealed  to  him  all  the 
riches  of  the  earth,  but,  not  content,  he 
insisted  upon  trying  it  upon  the  left 
eye,  and  was  stricken  blind.  "  Once  for 
far  and  once  for  sure  !"  What  can  be 

221 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

farther  than  far  ?  what  can  be  surer  than 
sure?  "And  once  for  what  is  past  alle 
cure."  I  tell  you  to  beware.' 

"  '  Pooh  !'  retorted  Grimshaw  ;  *  the 
meaning  is  obvious  enough.  It  is  the 
record  that  is  to  be  past  all  cure  after  I 
have  finished  smashing  it.  Give  me  that 
box,  I  say,'  and  then,  before  I  could  in 
terpose  another  word,  he  had  snatched 
it  from  me  and  had  smeared  the  salve 
liberally  upon  both  his  arms. 

"  Perhaps  I  had  expected  that  he 
would  fall  in  a  fit  or  collapse  in  some 
other  dreadful  fashion,  but  apparently 
the  application  had  no  effect  whatever. 
He  stood  there  with  a  play  club  in  his 
hand  and  tried  a  couple  of  swings. 

"  '  Well  ?'  and  I  looked  at  him  anx 
iously. 

" '  It  stings,  rather,'  he  answered, 
shortly  ;  *  but  that's  nothing.  Let's  get 
out.' 

"As  you  know,  there  is  a  bunker 
some  forty  yards  in  front  of  the  first 
tee  ;  we  used  to  call  it  the  Asses'  Bridge 

222 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

in  the  old  days.  Elphinstone  drove  off 
and  cleared  it  nicely,  and  then  Grim- 
shaw  stepped  to  the  tee.  He  looked  fit 
to  play  for  his  life,  and  it  was  all  that 
the  Green  Committee  could  do  to  sup 
press  the  continuous  hand-clapping  that 
ran  up  and  down  the  line  like  a  dis 
charge  of  musketry.  Finally,  quiet  was 
restored,  Grimshaw  swung  back,  then 
down  upon  the  ball,  and,  oh,  merciful 
heavens  ! — 

"  I  won't  give  you  the  details,"  re 
sumed  the  Ancient,  recovering  his  com 
posure  by  a  supreme  effort,  "  but  at  the 
forty-seventh  fruitless  stroke  some  of 
his  friends  went  down  into  the  bunker 
and  led  him  quietly  but  firmly  back  to 
the  club-house.  And  the  name  of  that 
bunker  is  Grimshaw's  Grave  unto  this 
day." 

The  Ancient  stopped,  and  his  faded 
blue  eyes  were  full  of  unshed  tears  as  he 
turned  his  head  away.  The  memory  of 
that  awful  moment  was  still  fresh  in  the 
old  man's  faithful  heart,  and  we  could 
223 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

not  but  respect  his  display  of  feeling 
and  old  -  time  loyalty  to  his  unhappy 
friend. 

It  was  Alderson  who  finally  mustered 
courage  to  put  the  question  we  were  all 
dying  to  ask. 

"  But  the  prime  great  secret — it  was 
gone,  of  course  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  He  still  possessed  it  in 
all  its  fulness  and  virtue,  and  he  has  it 
to  this  day.  He  knows  the  game  and 
how  to  play  it  as  no  mortal  man  has 
ever  done  or  ever  will." 

"  But  he  never  plays." 

"And  he  never  has  played  since  that 
unlucky  morning." 

"  I  don't  quite  follow  you." 

" '  Once  for  far  and  once  for  sure, 

And  once  for  what  is  past  alle  cure,' " 

quoted  the  Ancient,  solemnly.  "The 
directions  were  precise  and  absolutely 
truthful.  The  first  application  of  the 
salve  endued  Madison  Grimshaw  with 
superhuman  driving  power,  the  second 
224 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

gave  him  supernatural  accuracy,  and 
the  third — the  golf  elbow." 

The  Ancient  rose  and  left  the  smok 
ing-room,  and  one  by  one  the  company 
followed  him  in  silence  until  Woode- 
house  and  the  Fiend  were  left  alone. 
The  keen  eye  of  Woodehouse  had  no 
ticed  that  the  little  box  had  fallen  from 
the  old  gentleman's  pocket  as  he  rose,  and 
that  it  was  now  lying  under  the  table. 
The  Fiend  appeared  to  be  absorbed  in 
his  reading,  and  Woodehouse  made  a 
stealthy  move  towards  the  coveted 
object.  The  Fiend  looked  up  suddenly, 
and  Woodehouse  yawned  elaborately 
and  walked  to  a  window. 

There  !  the  Fiends  eyes  were  riveted 
again  upon  his  book.  Woodehouse  took 
a  tentative  step  in  the  direction  of  the 
table,  and  the  Fiend  was  reading  harder 
than  ever.  Woodehouse  felt  encouraged, 
lounged  carelessly  up  to  the  table,  and 
rilled  his  match-safe.  Still  no  movement 
on  the  part  of  the  enemy.  Woodehouse 
purposely  dropped  his  match-safe  and 
p  225 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

stooped  as  though  to  recover  it.  The 
precious  box  was  in  his  grasp ;  he 
straightened  up  ;  but  there  was  an  iron 
grip  upon  his  wrist,  and  a  sullen,  bale 
ful  glance  met  his  own. 

"  Halves !"  hissed  the  Fiend  between 
his  clinched  teeth  as  they  faced  each 
other. 

Woodehouse  hesitated  a  moment,  but 
he  knew  the  Fiend  full  well.  He  nod 
ded  and  removed  the  lid.  A  faint  spicy 
odor  could  be  sensibly  detected,  but  that 
was  all.  TJic  box  was  empty. 

"G-r-r-r!"  snarled  the  Fiend.  "I 
knew  there  was  nothing  in  it." 

***** 

Extract  from  the  minutes  of  the  Ex 
ecutive  Committee,  June  26,  19 — : 

"  McPherson,  the  green  -  keeper,  reported 
that  on  Tuesday  night  last  he  had  occasion 
to  cross  the  course  at  a  late  hour,  when  he 
was  surprised  to  see  a  man  standing  at  the 
thirteenth  hole  with  a  club  in  his  hand.  On 
approaching  he  recognized  in  him  Mr.  G.  Gra 
ham,  a  member  of  the  club,  and  otherwise 
226 


THE    PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

known  as  the  Fiend.  To  the  green-keeper's 
amazement  and  horror  he  distinctly  saw  Mr. 
Graham  proceed  to  drive  a  ball  off  the  putting- 
green  with  his  brassey,  incidentally  howking 
up  the  turf  in  a  most  outrageous  manner.  Af 
ter  a  sharp  personal  encounter  he  succeeded 
in  obtaining  possession  of  Mr.  Graham's  club, 
and  to  prevent  any  further  injury  to  the  course 
he  took  it  upon  himself  to  lock  up  the  gen 
tleman  overnight  in  the  tool-house.  It  was 
resolved  that  McPherson  should  be  present 
ed  with  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  in  recog 
nition  of  his  prompt  and  commendable  action, 
and,  upon  motion  of  Mr.  Woodehouse,  Mr. 
Graham  was  unanimously  expelled  from  the 
membership  of  the  club." 


Woodehouse  came  into  the  club  the 
other  day  and  announced  that  he  was 
through  with  golf.  "  It's  both  effem 
inate  and  faddish,"  he  asserted,  in  his 
toploftiest  manner,  "and  in  future  I 
shall  go  in  for  something  intellectual, 
like  chess,  the  king  of  games,  don't  you 
know." 

"  Good  idea,"  assented  Alderson,  with 
227 


THE     PRIME    GREAT    SECRET 

a  wink  at  Robinson  Brown.  "  Chess  is 
undoubtedly  the  game  for  a  man  who 
carries  his  left  arm  in  a  sling." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate — "  began 
Woodehouse,  getting  very  red  in  the 
face. 

"  Not  for  the  world,  my  dear  fellow. 
Still,  it  is  not  an  unheard-of  thing  for 
two  moths  to  get  singed  at  the  same 
candle." 


THE    END 


BY  LILIAN   BELL 


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